


Telluride

by Captain-WinterDaddy (Watch_Over_Durins_Sons)



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky is a dolt, Bucky's also a shithead, Christmas Vacation, Clint needs more coffee, Dorks in Love, Hasn't this been done a million times, Holidays, Ice Skating, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, New Years, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Ski Town, Telluride Colorado, pretend boyfriends au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8732107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watch_Over_Durins_Sons/pseuds/Captain-WinterDaddy
Summary: Bucky's mom refuses to believe that he has nobody to bring to their annual Christmas family vacation. She also refuses to believe that he's gay, which in turn leads Bucky to tell her some maybe untruthful things. Shenanigans ensue.





	1. Pickles

**Author's Note:**

> Hooooooookay.  
> It has been a wee while since I've written anything at all, and I've definitely never written anything in the Marvel Universe. So bear with me. 
> 
> Some things are a bit more movie canon compliant, and a few things are comic book compliant (mostly Clint.) 
> 
> Also, here we go with the pretend boyfriend AU, which I feel has been done a million times for this fandom, and this pairing in particular, but it was calling to me, so I had to answer. I sincerely hope it doesn't sound exactly like the other Pretend Boyfriend stories, but I can't make any promises, as I was pretty heavily influenced by them to even write this at all.. plus I'm a little distracted by real life. But I shall try my hardest!
> 
> I have a few chapters written, but I wanted to post this one now to get a little feedback. I still don't feel 100% about the characters, and I'm finding it a little hard to get their voices and tropes in line and accurate. But hey, practice makes perfect. I've gotta start somewhere.
> 
> So here's the first (rather short) chapter! Enjoy.

It was rare that Bucky came home to an empty house, the silence responding to his call of ‘Hey, guys, I’m home!’ proving to be almost eery.

James Buchanan Barnes, who preferred to be called Bucky, thank you very much, lived in a small Brooklyn apartment with his best friend Steve, and their new friend Sam Wilson. Bucky and Steve had been friends practically their entire lives, and Steve had met Sam at the VA last year, when he’d been delivering a painting of his own that the hospital had bought to hang in their meeting room. The two had hit it off immediately, and it wasn’t long before Steve was begging Bucky to let Sam move in with them.

“He’s lonely, Buck,” Steve had said, giving the brunet his best puppy-dog eyes. “We have to take him in.”

Jesus. You would’ve thought Sam Wilson was a stray kitten.

Bucky glanced around the quiet apartment and quickly spotted Pickles, speaking of stray kittens. The small calico had adopted the name when Bucky had found her in the alleyway behind their apartment building. The adolescent cat had gotten herself into a tussle with a broken pickle jar next to the dumpster, leaving her paw a bloody mess and effectively dowsing her with the sharp tang of pickle juice. Bucky couldn’t just leave her there.

Pickles followed Bucky as he moved into the kitchen to warm some leftover spaghetti. The cat had proven loyal to everyone in the apartment, but she was most fond of her savior, which, if Bucky admitted, left him feeling warm and fuzzy at times.

“Pickles,” he cooed, pulling the lid off of the tupperware container he’d pulled out of the fridge. His mouth watered at the sight of the food. Sam had cooked it, and everything Sam cooked was heavenly. “Has anybody fed you today?”

The cat gave a pitiful meow in response, so Bucky gave her a scoopful of kibble into her bowl after starting his food in the microwave. As he poured the crunchy food into her metal dish, the cat wove in and out of his legs, rubbing up against his calves and purring gratefully. Bucky gave her a scratch behind the ears.

A ringing sounded, and at first Bucky thought it might be the microwave sounding but quickly realized that his phone was going off. His stomach dropped a little bit when he saw his mother’s name flash across the screen. He’d been waiting for her to call.

“James!” she exclaimed after he picked up. “How are you doing, my love?”

“Mom,” Bucky whined, pulling his hot food out of the microwave, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder. “Don’t call me that. You know I don’t like it.”

His mother ignored him and continued on. “I’ve called about the Christmas trip. I have to know if you’re bringing a plus-one, Bucky.”

“You know I’m not.”

There was a pause before Winifred Barnes answered. “Well, why not? Haven’t you had any nice girls you’ve wanted to bring ‘round?”

Bucky set his tupperware container on the counter with more force than necessary, pasta sauce flying out to dot the grey counter with red specks. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t like women, mom? I’m not going to bring a girlfriend this trip, or any other trip, because I am gay, and you know that.”

“Now I’ve never seen you date any men, James. Are you sure that’s not just an excuse to get out of bringing a girlfriend to meet us? Are you sure you’re not just embarrassed?”

Bucky had heard this spiel a thousand and one times. Every year his mother wanted him to bring a significant other to meet the family on their annual Christmas trip, and every year he turned her down. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed, it was that he didn’t have anyone to bring. Bucky had always had an easy time with the girls. Throughout high school, and even part of university, he’d had loads of girlfriends, but none of them ever truly struck a chord within him. He hadn’t connected with any of them, nor did he ever feel any attraction for them, though he could always recognize their beauty. It wasn’t until a boy in his third year at college winked at him from across his English classroom that he realized he might be gay. Since then, he simply hadn’t found the right guy.

There may have been a couple of the wrong guys, but he didn’t like to think about that. He’d never told his mom about them, and he didn’t plan on doing so.

“That’s not it,” he sighed, stabbing at his noodles with a fork. “I’m one hundred percent gay and one hundred percent single.”

Winifred hummed over the phone, causing a light static noise. Bucky could almost hear the disbelieving expression on her face. “It’s been an awfully long time since you’ve dated anyone, son. Do you think that maybe you were going through a rough patch? Why don’t you try asking a girl out? Maybe one from work? You might find your mind changed.”

Bucky nearly lost it completely. If he had to hear his mother’s doubtful thoughts over his sexuality one more time, he was going to go mad. “Steve and I have started dating, okay?” he practically shouted, and then realized how loud he was being and brought his voice down a couple of notches before continuing. “I didn’t want to tell you, because it’s still a pretty new thing, and I don’t want to ruin it or make him uncomfortable.”

This pause was much longer than the last, the only indication that his mother was even still on the phone being her soft breaths, and Bucky started to panic. He’d backed himself into a corner this time, and he didn’t know how to get out. Surely his mother would never believe that he and Steve were dating, but he couldn’t take it back without looking like an idiot. He needed to talk to Steve. He needed to sort it with him and maybe, just maybe the two of them together could convince -

“Bucky, that’s great news!” Winifred responded, interrupting Bucky’s train of thought. “You should’ve told me. Oh, it’s been years since I’ve seen Steve. Why don’t you bring him?”

“Mom, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…”

His mother laughed. “Don’t be silly. It’s a fantastic idea. Besides, does he have anybody to spend the holidays with? Ever since Sarah passed…” his mother trailed off, pausing briefly, “well… I just assume he has no one to spend Christmas with, but that’s silly of me… Of course Steve has people to surround himself with. He was always such a sweet boy…”

“Mom,” Bucky cut off her rambling, a sad smile tugging at his lips. Even though she was driving him crazy on the matter at hand, he knew that she and Sarah had been close when Bucky and Steve had been growing up, and he didn’t want her to dig herself into a hole of sadness and regret. She’d done it when Steve’s mother had first passed away, and it wasn’t a place she needed to go back to. “Steve would love to spend the holidays with us, I’m sure.”

“Oh, would you please ask him, dear?” she begged. “I’d hate for him to be all alone, and I’m sure the two of you want to be together for Christmas, yes? Bucky, you must bring him.”

Right. Bucky’d nearly forgotten why they were even talking about Steve in the first place. He really needed to end the phone call. And maybe take a nap. “Sure, mom. Uh, I’ll ask him when he gets home. I’ll let you know what he says.”

“I won’t take no for an answer, son. That boy needs a family to spend Christmas with.”

“Yeah, okay, mom. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

Bucky hung up the phone before she could say anything else. What in the hell had he done?


	2. Underestimated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky doesn't know how to tell Steve that they are now an item. Apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit unsure about this chapter. It's one of the shakier ones that I've written, but I hope you guys like it. :)

When Bucky Barnes is upset, he bakes. 

Maybe it’s the way he can violently take out his pent up frustration while kneading dough, or maybe it’s the soothing scent of baking cooks. Perhaps it’s even the feeling of contentment it brings him to pull a toothpick clean out of the center of a perfectly baked cake, but whatever it is, it helps.

The oven dinged and he wandered over to have a peek at the custard he was making, just as the locking mechanism on the front door clicked, and the voices of Sam and Steve began to carry inside. It sounded as though they were talking about Natasha, if Sam’s mention of a red-headed she-devil was anything to go by. 

“Whoa, man!” Sam exclaimed upon seeing the rows of cupcakes, brownies, and cookies laid out upon every surface in the kitchen. “Something must have you riled up. What’s going on?”

Bucky barely spared them a glance before shutting the oven and adding five more minutes to the timer. “Nothing. Felt like baking. It’s that time of the year.”

“Well, now that’s a lie,” Sam pointed out, grabbing one of the gingerbread cookies after testing it for coolness. “I’m not complaining, but I know you only bake when you’re pissed.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned around, meeting Sam’s amused gaze. “It’s not important, Wilson.”

Sam took a bite of his confection and threw a hand up in defense. “Just looking out for you, man,” he mumbled around his mouthful, and then added, “and, as always, these cookies are amazing. Where the hell did you learn to bake, Barnes?”

Bucky gave him a shrug and leaned back against the oven, crossing his arms. “I didn’t. I follow recipes.”

“That never works for me,” Steve sighed, also grabbing a cookie. “Everything I touch in the kitchen gets ruined.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, giving his best friend a playful smirk. “You pour a fine bowl of cereal.”

Steve opened his mouth to retort, but the oven timer went off again, and Bucky turned away to pull his custard out. He grabbed knife and poked it in a couple spots, smiling when he found it cooked to perfection. His happiness was short lived when Steve and Sam resumed speaking to each other, the topic of discussion being Christmas. 

“Speaking of the holidays, my mom asked me to invite you to Christmas,” Sam said. “You know how she is. She worries. She also thinks you need to eat more, because apparently weighing 220 pounds and having biceps the size of your head isn’t enough.”

Steve laughed, and Bucky wanted to choke. “I’ll consider it,” Steve replied. “I do really love your mom’s cooking.”

Bucky could imagine Sam’s toothy grin as he responded. “There’s nothing like a little southern comfort, man.”

“What are you doing for the holidays, Buck?” Steve asked, pulling Bucky back into the conversation and forcing him to turn around once more. 

The brunet tried to put a smile on his face, but he was sure it looked strained. “Oh, you know, the usual family trip to Telluride.”

Steve slapped himself on the forehead. “Of course, how could I forget. You’ve done that for years.”

Bucky nodded, forcing his smile wider, and swallowed around his nerves. Steve wasn’t looking at him, but rather at his cookie as he chewed thoughtfully. However, Sam had noticed his distress and lifted a questioning brow at Bucky. He gave Sam a short shake of his head, making it clear that now was not the time, and thankfully Sam let it drop with a small nod.

“What did you two do this afternoon?” Bucky questioned, deciding that steering the conversation in a different direction was his best option for the time being. 

Steve’s eyes finally flicked up from his food, an exhausted look crossing his face. “Hot yoga with Nat.”

Bucky couldn’t help it. He let out a loud, full bellied laugh that made the other two grumble and groan at him. The image of the two boys, both of whom were pretty large and uncoordinated, doing yoga was completely absurd. 

“Yeah,” Sam was nodding his head, and he gestured a hand in Bucky’s direction. “Go ahead, laugh.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Bucky guffawed, trying desperately to catch his breath. “How did she talk you guys into doing that?”

“You know how she is,” Steve sighed, his head slumping over to rest on his palm, elbow perched on the counter. “She wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

Natasha Romanov lived in the apartment next door to them, and they’d known her for years. Bucky had even dated her briefly, though the two of them had been far too hard headed for it to have ever worked out. Bucky could admit that Nat was a little bit on the intimidating side, but there was no way in hell he would let her drag him to one of her hot yoga classes. Sam and Steve were clearly weaker men, and she knew it, preying on them. 

“You guys can’t let yourselves be scared of her. She’s honestly harmless.”

“Whatever, Barnes. That woman is anything but harmless. She’s frightening,” Sam responded. 

Bucky waved it off and made to leave the kitchen. “It’s all an act, I swear. C’mon, Wilson. Why don’t you start dinner.”

“With what counter space?”

“Figure it out!” Bucky called back, his voice fading as he walked down the hallway. If he was going to survive the evening in one piece, he was going to have to take a moment to collect himself - maybe change into something more comfortable and spend some quiet time really thinking about what he was going to do. He’d have to talk to Steve sooner rather than later, but he didn’t want an audience. If he could make it through dinner, then he’d probably be able to get Steve alone afterward.

Bucky sighed and plopped down on his bed, burying his face in his hands with a groan. He had no clue what he was going to tell his best friend. 

 

***

 

Dinner went smoother than Bucky had expected it to. Only one time did he let his frustration show, when Sam had mentioned that he thought it was depressing that they didn’t have any Christmas decorations up in their apartment. Bucky had pointed out that none of them would probably be home on Christmas, but he hadn’t been able to help the nervous shake in his voice. He received another eyebrow from Sam, who seemed even more confused than he had earlier. More importantly, he’d also gotten a look from Steve that made it clear the two of them would talk later. Perfect. There was no way he’d be able to back out. 

All of Bucky’s friends were aware of what a poor actor he was, though none of them ever mentioned it, instead letting him get away with his little acts. He was thankful for it, because there was always a time and a place for Bucky to voice his problems, and forcing him to talk about it never did any good. They knew and respected that. He considered himself very lucky.

Once they had cleared their small, rickety table and done the dishes, Sam declared that he had an early start the next day and was going to retire early. Bucky wasn’t sure of whether or not it was the truth or if he knew Steve and Bucky needed to talk, but either way, it gave Bucky the opportunity that he needed. However, when he turned to look at Steve, he promptly lost his voice. The blond was leant against the sink, arms crossed, and giving Bucky an expectant look. 

“How is work going?” Bucky asked, having no idea where to even begin. 

Steve gave him a bewildered look, but answered his question. “It’s fine. I started a couple of new pieces, but I’m not sure how I feel about them yet.”

Bucky nodded, trying to swallow his nerves in the process. Steve had recently finished school, earning a degree in Studio Art. He’d set up a temporary ‘studio’ in the corner of their living room, which was really just an easel and his art supplies, shoved into a corner, next to the biggest window in their apartment. It was sectioned off from the rest of the room by a couple of shoji screens, and Sam and Bucky knew to leave Steve alone if he was in the ‘studio.’ More often than not they would vacate the living room entirely. 

“What’s wrong, Bucky?” Steve sighed, his expression pained and knowing. 

Bucky glared at Steve. Sad faces were always the blond’s go-to tactic. Bucky could never resist them. “Nothing’s wrong, really… I might’ve done something stupid, but it’s not horrible. Honestly, it’s pretty ridiculous, and I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but she was making me crazy, Stevie.”

Steve held up a hand to stop his rambling, and Bucky snapped his mouth shut with a click. 

“What did you do?” he continued, prying gently. “You know, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

It wasn’t a question, but Bucky nodded his head. “That’s the thing. I have to tell you.”

Steve tilted his head a little, obviously confused by his response, but didn’t say anything more, leaving the talking up to Bucky. 

The brunet drew a shaky breath and gestured for Steve to follow him. Bucky crossed the living room and opened up a rickety window before crawling out onto the fire escape. Steve squeezed through the window as well, and the two of them stood, staring out at the old Brooklyn brownstones, their breaths white clouds in the cold winter air. The freezing temperature helped Bucky to clear his mind a little. 

“My mom called,” he finally spoke, not meeting Steve’s eyes. He could tell out of the corner of his eye that his friend was watching him. 

“Did something happen?” Steve’s tone was worried, and inched closer to the shorter man. Bucky could’ve laughed. 

“No,” he breathed. “Nothing happened. She was only calling to double check that I was still coming on the trip.”

Steve slumped, relaxing at the notion that everything was okay. “Oh. Alright. So what’s the matter?”

“She asked if I’m bringing a plus-one this year,” Bucky spat, more bitterly than he had meant to. “She’s wanted me to bring a girl to this thing for years.”

“But you don’t like women.”

This time Bucky did actually laugh. “Yeah, try telling my mother that.”

It was silent for a moment, aside from the normal sound of New York traffic. It was early December, and the promise of snow was lingering in the air. 

“Please don’t tell me that you promised to bring a girl.”

Bucky finally turned huge, grey eyes on Steve. “Of course not. I don’t hate myself that much. I promised to bring you.”

Steve’s eyebrows drew together. “What?”

Bucky wished he could take it back. This whole thing was a mistake, and he had no idea what Steve was going to think about what he’d done. Would it strain their relationship? Steve had been in his life longer than anyone else, aside from his family, and if something happened between them, he didn’t know what he would do. He was just going to have to spit it out. 

“I, uh… I told my mom that we’re dating.”

Steve’s eyes widened minimally, but he otherwise didn’t react. 

“I’m sorry, Stevie. It’s just… you know how my mother is. She can bring this rage out in me that isn’t really necessary, but this was the final straw. She won’t believe that I’m not interested in women, and nothing makes me angrier than her trying to force me into relationships. It just slipped out, and then there was no way to take it back.”

“Buck, you don’t have to apologize,” Steve said, and he smiled. 

“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”

Steve tossed his head back and laughed, throwing a palm over his heart with mirth. 

“Hey, punk. It’s not funny.”

Steve looked at him, his eyes watery, still giggling hysterically. “It’s pretty funny. That’s a real pickle you’ve got yourself in, Buck.”

Bucky slapped his hands down on the railing of the fire escape, fixing Steve with a serious stare. He was glad that Steve wasn’t mad, but he still needed help with his predicament. “You have to back me up on this, or else my mom will never let me live it down.”

“You jerk,” Steve chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. “Obviously I’ll back you up.”

Bucky felt his first ray of hope. He leaned towards the blond, perking up, knowing that he might actually get away with this. “So you’ll come?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not like I have much else to do for Christmas, though I’m sure it’ll come as a disappointment to Mrs. Wilson.” 

“She’ll get over it. She has all the other days of the year to fatten you up.”

“That’s true.”

Bucky turned to completely face Steve, leaning a hip against the railing. A nearby street lamp illuminated his friend’s hair, turning it a nearly luminescent blond, glowing like a halo, and his eyes seemed more cerulean than ever. “You know, Stevie, you’re going to have to brush up on your acting skills. It’s going to be hard to really convince my mother that we’re in love. She’s a very suspecting woman.”

“How hard can it be?” Steve smirked. “I don’t know anyone better than I know you.”

“Sure, but we don’t exactly act like a couple.”

“We’ll give ‘em hell, Buck. Don’t worry about it. We already spend most of our time together. What’s a little PDA? I’m up for the challenge.” The blond cocked an eyebrow, his grin as wide as ever. “I think you’re the one that needs to brush up on your acting. I’m feeling very confident.”

Bucky’s lips twisted into a smirk that was reserved solely for his lifelong best friend. “Maybe I underestimated us.”

 

***

 

Steve and Bucky stayed up talking for a little bit too long, and by the time they climbed back inside, Bucky felt like he had frozen through his sweater and into his bones. It hadn’t snowed, but the night sky had lightened to an eerily bright color, and he suspected they would wake up to a white blanket covering the city. 

Bucky quickly changed into some sweatpants and crawled into his bed, teeth clacking together with shivers. Steve was a human furnace, but Bucky wasn’t so immune to the cold. He’d enjoyed talking to Steve though. The two of them didn’t spend a lot of time alone anymore, always accompanied by either Sam or Natasha. When it was just him and Steve, Bucky could relax into his purest self, completely comfortable, with little to no fear of judgement. He always wanted to do well by Steve, even impress him sometimes. The blond was so kind and moral that Bucky couldn’t help but try to live up to Steve’s high expectations of the human species. In short, Bucky was a better person when he was with Steve. 

Not that he was ever necessarily bad, but he didn’t always give people the chances they deserved. Without Steve, Bucky was more self-absorbed, less trusting. Bucky, by nature, didn’t like people as much as Steve did. He wasn’t sure if that was a flaw of his, or if Steve was a special human. He had a feeling it was the latter. 

Bucky huffed and turned over. Sleep wasn’t going to find him easily tonight. He felt better now that he and Steve had sorted things, but he was still nervous about the trip. They only had a few days before they’d have to leave, and if they were going to make Bucky’s mother believe they were dating, they were going to have to come up with one hell of a story, and then they were both going to have to remember it and stick to it, otherwise everything would fall apart. Bucky had full faith in Steve. It was himself that he was worried about. Under pressure, Bucky wasn’t known to have the best memory. He’d panic and say something wrong and screw everything up. 

“God,” he groaned, turning back over to lie on his back. “Chill the fuck out, Barnes. Worrying about it isn’t going to make it any better.”

A soft weight landed on the pillow next to his head, and he tilted his face to look at Pickles. She peered curiously at him through the dark, her nose barely and inch from his, sniffing gently. 

“Hey, girlie,” he murmured, giving her head a soft rub. “Have you come to keep me warm?”

Apparently deciding that she was satisfied with his scent, she curled up in the crook of his neck, resting her head on his shoulder, and began to purr. Bucky chuckled and took that as a ‘yes,’ leaning his head against her. Her soft breaths were soothing and did more to quiet his mind than he alone ever could have, slowly lulling him into a restless sleep. 

If he dreamt about Steve Rogers, nobody had to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, any thoughts? Comments? Do let me know how you guys are liking it, or if there are any little tropes or things you think should be fixed. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. I'm also editing everything myself, so if you notice any mistakes, don't hesitate to let me know. And Kudos if you liked it! :D Thanks, guys.


	3. He's Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve have gone (semi) public with their situation, and Bucky has the beginnings of a crisis on his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, guys. I hope it's okay! I feel like something's missing from this chapter, but I can't figure out what it is.. hm.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

“You two seriously need to film this trip.”

Bucky, Steve and Sam were having their weekly breakfast at Natasha’s apartment. It was a dreary, snowy, Sunday morning. Steve and Bucky had just finished telling the other two about their conversation the previous night, hoping to gain some insight from their friends, but instead the two had done nothing but laugh over the matter. 

“We aren’t recording the trip, Sam,” Steve smiled. He apparently had no problem with their reactions, unlike Bucky, who found them to be incredibly annoying. 

Natasha didn’t have much to say, but she couldn’t stop smiling to herself, eyes darting constantly between Steve and Bucky as she ate her pancakes. The way she was eyeing them made Bucky’s stomach twist up in knots, but he didn’t feel like trying to question her. Natasha would only speak on her own terms. 

“You have to admit that it would be pretty funny,” Sam spoke seriously, his eyebrows raised in an expression that dared anyone to fight him on the matter. 

“I don’t think it would be too different from how it must be living with them,” Natasha pointed out, gesturing between the boys with her fork. “They’re practically dating, as it is.”

Sam laughed along with her and joined in on the teasing. Though Bucky found it irritating, Steve seemed to be enjoying their friendly pestering, so he tried not to feel so glum. 

The sound of the lock on the front door being turned diverted their attention, and all four heads turned just as Clint Barton, Natasha’s best friend-turned-boyfriend, walked through the door. He had a pair of bone conduction headphones on and his blond hair was a disaster, head bobbing to whatever he was listening to and whispering lyrics under his breath. 

Once he had the door closed, he turned around and jumped, throwing a hand to his chest, not having expected to be met with four pairs of eyes. 

He slid his headphones off. “Hey, you guys. Forgot it was Sunday. Totally didn’t expect you all to be here.”

“Clearly,” Bucky responded. 

Clint gave him a somewhat confused look and adjusted his hearing aids before responding, “What was that?”

Bucky shook his head and grinned. “Nothing, Barton.”

Clint shook his head and dropped his stuff next to the front door, before joining them in the kitchen. “Don’t happen to have any coffee on, do you, Nat?” he asked, gaze wandering around the room as if he expected to see a pot of coffee hiding somewhere on Natasha’s spotless countertops. 

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p.’ “But you know how to make it. Coffee pot’s in the dishwasher.”

Clint looked as if he’d rather not have to make a pot himself, but went about doing so anyway. His disabling caffeine dependency didn’t leave him with much of a choice. 

“So what did I interrupt?” he asked, as he pulled a bag of ground coffee out of a cupboard, opening it and taking a whiff. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head. 

“Steve and Bucky here are dating now,” Natasha replied, lip twitching. 

Clint’s gaze flitted back to the group, a look of disbelief on his face. “Really? Well, Jesus, it’s about time.”

“What the fuck, Clint?” Bucky exclaimed. He could feel the beginnings of a blush creeping up his neck, and he couldn’t allow that. Showing embarrassment was not one of the things Bucky Barnes made a habit of doing. “Of course we aren’t dating.”

Natasha and her boyfriend shared a look that Bucky didn’t like much, but Natasha didn’t egg the rumpled blond on any further. “Bucky’s made the mistake of telling his mother that he and Steve are dating, in order to get her off his back about bringing a girl on their family Christmas trip, and now these boys have to live up to it.”

Clint chuckled as he scooped a heaping amount of coffee into a filter. “Sounds like something that should be taped.”

Sam slapped a hand on the table. “Man, that’s exactly what I said!”

Bucky groaned and sank back in his chair, meeting Steve’s bright eyes briefly as he did so. It was going to be an exhausting holiday season. 

 

***

 

Natasha handed Bucky a plate to dry, before sinking her hands back into the soapy depths of the filled sink. The two of them were on dishes duty this week, and Sam and Steve had wandered into the living room with Clint. Bucky was glad to have a breather from the other boys, able to relax for the first time that morning. 

He should’ve known that it wouldn’t last. 

“Have you figured everything out for the trip?” Natasha asked, scrubbing methodically at a pan. She didn’t bother to look at him. “You two had better start sharing clothes. Little details like that will buy you authenticity points.”

Bucky glanced down at the sweater he was wearing. He’d stolen it out of the bathroom hamper that morning, when he’d forgotten to bring a clean shirt with him when he’d showered, and it had been his only option aside from facing the cold hallway. The sweater was an old, soft and worn one of Steve’s - a rich, dark red color that Bucky thought looked rather good on himself. The blond hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“We already do.”

The corner of Nat’s mouth tilted up, and she graced him with a brief sweep of her eyes. “Oh?”

Bucky felt the need to get defensive, even though the redhead hadn’t actually accused him of anything. He and Steve were close to the same size, so he couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t share clothes. “It’s a completely normal thing to do.”

“If you say so.”

Bucky decided not to respond and finished drying the plate. There was no point in arguing with Natasha. Even if she was wrong, she was right.

“Relax, James. Everything is going to be okay.”

He grunted in response and took the clean pan from her. She let him, but after he’d dried it and set it aside, she grabbed his hand with one of her own, forcing him to give her his full attention. Compared to his, her hand looked tiny and delicate, the skin soft and pale. If he didn’t know what her dainty hands were capable of, he’d have been worried about gripping it back. 

“You and Steve love each other,” she stated, her eyes meeting his in an unwavering stare. 

Bucky gave a curt nod. “Well, sure. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. He’s like my brother.”

She didn’t say anything, but her mossy eyes said more than words could have. She was silently calling him on his bullshit, and Bucky didn’t know how to process the fact that he felt no need to argue against her. Bucky had loved Steve since they were just two small boys, dirt on their elbows and cuts on their knees, ready to take on the world. He’d always assumed it was a familial love, but for the first time in his life, he was faltering in his surety. 

No. He couldn’t do that. He had to keep his head on straight. 

Bucky shook his head and pulled his hand out of hers. “He’s family, Nat.”

She gave him a soft smile and moved her hand to lay it on his shoulder. “I know. It’s kind of like how Clint and I are family.”

The words took him by surprise. Bucky had no problem seeing the familial connection between Natasha and Clint. He also couldn’t help but notice the obvious chemistry between the two, and he couldn’t imagine them not being together. It gave him a lot to think about, though it didn’t exactly help Bucky to sort out his what the hell was going on with him. All he wanted to do was go back to bed. 

“Keep your eyes open, Bucky,” Natasha continued, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. “You might notice things that you didn’t before.”

She pulled the plug in the sink and wiped her hands on a towel, giving him one last glance before leaving him to stand alone in the kitchen, only his muddled thoughts to accompany him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, comments, kudos, etc are much appreciated! :) thanks for reading.


	4. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys make it to Telluride with only minimal problems, and Steve is reunited with Bucky's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, okay, now the story is starting to move forward, and we finally have a decently-lengthed chapter... Kind of.  
> Enjoy!

Before they knew it, Steve and Bucky found themselves sitting in the airport, slumped over in a couple of seats in their terminal, mindlessly scrolling through their social media profiles. If there was one thing Bucky hated about traveling, it was all the waiting. Waiting for taxis, buses, shuttles, airplanes. Waiting, waiting, waiting… what a waste of time. 

He locked his phone and slid it back into his jeans, and Steve checked his watch again. They hadn’t said much to one another since they’d gotten to the Denver airport, the excitement of their travels getting overshadowed by exhaustion from the four and half hour flight they’d just sat through. Plus, over the last couple weeks they had formulated their plan, discussing every detail, wearing out every possibility and scenario, and now there wasn’t much left to say. 

The two decided that they would tell Bucky’s family they’d only started dating a month prior. Steve was the one who took the leap, because apparently he was more in touch with his desperate romantic side than Bucky. Sam had been gone for the weekend, and Steve had surprised him with a special dinner, which was obviously unrealistic, since Steve couldn’t cook. Bucky liked to imagine that Steve had actually gotten take out and set it all up, having pretended to cook the meal himself. Bucky would’ve seen through it, but he would’ve gone along, and he still would’ve been touched. It was all very sweet. 

Bucky hadn’t been able to dedicate much time to these thoughts on the way into Denver from New York. The Colorado capital was in the middle of a violent winter storm, and it had been a turbulent ride for the last hour of the trip. He absolutely hated flying, and he had been silently thankful for Steve’s presence, which had done a little to help calm him. However, the fact that they were about to get on an even smaller plane in the midst of the storm wasn’t doing so much to help.

“We are now boarding all passengers for flight 2976 through Gate A64 to Telluride,” a woman’s voice sounded through their small terminal, and Bucky stood up a bit too quickly, his legs shaky beneath him. 

Steve chuckled and stood up slowly, stretching his arms far over his head with a yawn. “Calm down, Buck,” he said, smiling as he readjusted his shirt. “A little bird told me it’s a pretty spectacular flight from here to Telluride.”

“It is,” Bucky grumbled, heaving his carry-on backpack onto his shoulder. “When you can actually see, and you aren’t trying your hardest not to die.”

“Your life is in the hands of the pilot,” Steve pointed out as they walked towards their gate, boarding passes clutched in their hands. “You might as well sit back and relax, because if you’re going to die, you’re going to die, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Thanks,” the brunet drawled. “That’s really helpful.”

The short flight to Telluride turned out to be better than Bucky had expected. They’d flown in a tiny Beechcraft 1900, which didn’t do wonders for the turbulence, but the storm cleared up about ten minutes south of Denver, and the rest of the flight did prove to be gorgeous. 

“You know,” Steve had said, face pressed against the plane window like a kid at a candy shop, “the further into this trip we get, the more glad I am that I came. This is going to be the inspiration boost I’ve been needing for my work.”

“Stevie, the trip has just started.”

“Exactly.”

Now that they were off on the plane, hobbling towards the shuttle that would take them to a stop near the family’s vacation house, Steve was able to see the beauty of Southern Colorado up close and personal, and the look of wonder on his face was something Bucky was focusing very hard on etching into his permanent memory. Suddenly he felt a strange need to thank his mom for doubting his sexuality.

The cabin they stayed in every year was on the outskirts of town, the backyard opening up into the heavily forested countryside. If possible, Steve’s eyes seemed to widen even a fraction more when the cabin came into view as they walked the short distance from where the shuttle had dropped them, though he didn’t have long to gaze at the house before Bucky’s parents came piling out of the cabin, shouting and laughing. 

“Boys! Welcome, welcome,” Bucky’s mother greeted, pulling both of them into tight hugs. She wasted no time in sizing both of them up, clearly trying to decide how much she would have to feed them over the course of the next couple weeks. “Steve, it’s been so long, dear. My, you’ve gotten so big. We really ought’ve invited you before this year. I do hope you haven’t been spending all your holidays alone since your mother, well, you know.”

George Barnes interrupted his wife, reaching in to give Steve a firm handshake. The blond didn’t seem to know what to say, eyes darting between faces to try and take it all in at once. 

“What my wife is trying to say,” he amended, a fond look in his almond eyes, “is that you have family here too, Steve. You’re always welcome.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Steve responded, relaxing into the handshake. “It means a lot.”

“Please,” Bucky’s dad said, lifting his hands. “Just call me George.”

“Steve!” a third voice squealed, and Bucky barely caught sight of his sister’s dark head squeezing between their parents before Steve was nearly knocked over by the force of Rebecca Barnes’ hug.

“Hey, Becca, d’you even care about your own brother?”

Becca pulled away from Steve, giving Bucky a frown that could nearly rival his own. He’d taught her well.

“I see you every year, shit-head. I haven’t seen Steve in years.”

“Rebecca!”

“Language, young lady.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Steve, grinning up at the blond. She’d grown even taller since Bucky had last seen her, but she was still a head shorter than Steve. George Barnes was a strikingly tall man, but if Rebecca was anything like Bucky, she’d inherit their mother’s height. It was possible that she was finally done growing.

Steve laughed at the teenage girl, complete disbelief on his face. “Becca? God, it has been a long time. What, are you like twenty five now or something.”

The dark haired girl slapped Steve on the arm, her face flushing a rosy color that Bucky suspected had nothing to do with the cold temperature outside. “Seventeen, punk.”

“Hey! Only I get to call Steve a punk.”

“Oh god, she’s just like you, Buck.”

Before their bickering could go any further, Bucky’s mother interrupted them, directing them all inside the cabin. 

“No use in standing out in the cold. We have a fire going in the living area, boys. Which bedroom do you two want?”

Bucky’s head snapped back to his mother, his attention finally diverting from his sister and Steve. “We can sleep in the bunk room,” he replied, biting his lip in the hopes she’d go for it, but if he knew anything about his mother…

“Nonsense!” Winifred gave Bucky a look like she honestly couldn’t believe he’d even suggest such a thing. “Rebecca can sleep in the bunk room. I’m sure you will want some privacy. Do you have a preference?”

Bucky sighed. He knew his mother would never let him get away with something like that. Becca also didn’t look happy about the outcome. “We can take the smaller one.”

“That one doesn’t have a fireplace.”

“It’s fine, mom.”

“Yeah, mom,” Becca smirked, eyeing Bucky with a look he didn’t like. It was unsettling how alike they were. He recognized that face as one of his own. “It’s fine. He has Steve to keep him warm, isn’t that right, Bucky?”

Bucky felt the threat of a blush again. It’d been happening a lot more as of late, and he wasn’t too pleased about it. “That’s right, Becca. I have Steve to keep me warm, while you have to suffer, sleeping with nothing but a cold, dead heart.”

“I don’t need anything to keep me warm,” she snapped. “I’m immune to the cold. I feel nothing.”

“That’ll be a side affect of that dead heart.”

“Children!”

The Barnes siblings gave each other one last glare and turned to their mother. 

“Bucky,” she continued, once she had their full attention, “why don’t you and Steve bring your things upstairs and get settled in? When you are finished we can have dinner. It’s nearly ready.”

Bucky gave his mom a nod, and Steve thanked her again, and then the two of them went upstairs, lugging their stuff along. For a two week vacation, both of them had overpacked a little. 

Okay, so Bucky may have overpacked a lot.

“How in the hell are we going to do this?” the brunet groaned the second the bedroom door had shut behind them. “This is a total mess. I’m sorry I got you into this, Steve.”

Steve hesitated before letting out a small laugh. “What are you talking about, Buck? Everything is fine. You’re family is exactly how I remember them. Your mom isn’t even treating us any differently than usual. Nor is your dad, for that matter.”

“And Rebecca?” Bucky questioned, meeting Steve’s gaze with a serious look. “She’s not going to stop teasing us for the next two weeks.”

The blond shrugged his broad shoulders and ran a hand through his hair, an almost-coy expression dancing across his face. “Becca is just like you. I know how to handle her.”

“Sure, but I don’t,” he mumbled back, causing Steve to laugh even harder. Bucky was aware that he could be a handful. He didn’t need Steve to tell him that, but he was pretty sure that his sister was even worse than he was. That was saying something. Bucky almost had to give her props on being such a top-notch asshole.

Steve plopped down on the edge of the queen-sized bed and looked around the room. It was the smaller of the two bedrooms, though only by a little, and the vaulted ceiling made it feel a lot bigger than it was.

Every piece of furniture in the room was a dark, rich mahogany, and there was an enormous window set in the slanted ceiling, casting light down into the whole room. Bucky liked this room for that window specifically. It was magical to lie in the bed and gaze up at the snowy winter sky, a good book perched in his lap. The time that Bucky spent alone on this trip was half the reason he came every year, wasting hours away doing nothing. It was an annual therapy session. This year would be different though, with Steve there, though Bucky didn’t think that was really a bad thing. Steve had as much of a calming effect on Bucky as anything else did. 

Attached to the room was a huge bathroom. It had a large, frosted window, and both a bathtub and a separate shower. In his daily life, Bucky usually preferred to shower, but when he was at the cabin he took more baths than he cared to admit, sometimes with a lavish amount of bubbles and a cup of steaming hot cocoa. 

“The cabin looks amazing. Is this where you guys stay every year?”

Bucky nodded and shrugged off his coat, hanging it on a hook next to the bedroom door. “It’s a timeshare,” he explained. “Sometimes we come in the summer as well, but that’s really rare. We’ve been coming here since leaving Brooklyn.”

When Bucky had been sixteen, his family had moved away from New York, and by extension, away from Steve. It had been the hardest day of Bucky’s life, and those two years he’d spent away from him had been the worst. They’d kept in touch of course, and they saw each other over the summers, but it hadn’t been enough. The second Bucky had turned eighteen he’d gotten a plane ticket and moved back home. 

Steve sighed and leaned back on his elbows, gazing up through the ceiling window. “I bet it’s amazing in the summer.”

“It is,” Bucky replied earnestly, smoothing out the sweater he was wearing (another one of Steve’s, this time in a forest green color,) “but I prefer it in the winter.”

Steve chuckled and pushed himself off of the bed, albeit reluctantly. “That’s because you’re a vampire.”

The brunet frowned at his friend and followed him back out of the room. “No. I just prefer bundling up in cozy clothes to sweating my balls off.”

Steve didn’t dignify that with a response as the two of them traipsed downstairs, the smell of home-cooked food drifting up from the kitchen. 

“Oh, boys,” Winifred greeted as they walked into the cozy kitchen. “Dinner is almost ready if you want to go have a seat at the dining table.”

Steve followed Bucky through an archway that led into the dining room. It was a small room, filled up by a long table, enough chairs to sit eight people. Every room seemed to have some sort of fireplace or wood-burning stove, and this one was no exception with a small, black stove in the corner. The small, hinged door on it was shut, but the heat emanating from it could be felt throughout the entire room. 

Rebecca and Bucky’s dad were already sitting at the table, George at the head and Becca to his right. There was an empty seat left between them for Winifred, so Steve and Bucky took up the two seats across from them, to George’s left. Steve sat closest to Bucky’s dad, forcing Bucky to sit across from his sister, which he’d been hoping to avoid. She was notorious for being a shin-kicker at meals.

Once the food had been laid out (Winifred’s famous macaroni and cheese casserole with a side of garlic roasted broccoli, Bucky’s favorite,) and everyone had settled in, the earlier excitement of Steve and Bucky’s arrival resurfaced.

“How are you finding the town?” Bucky’s dad asked Steve, wiping his mouth with a napkin. The older man’s brown hair was beginning to gray along the sides, but he still had the same friendly twinkle to his eyes that he’d had since they were kids. “I realize you haven’t been here long, but I’ve found that Telluride can make a quick impression.”

“It’s stunning,” Steve responded, sounding so genuine it nearly caused Bucky pain. Though Steve seemed completely calm, Bucky could recognize his child-like excitement better than anyone, as well as his artistic wonder. Steve didn’t find the town stunning. Steve saw what no one else could: an inspiration-filled winter wonderland, full of unique touches that only his artist’s eyes would catch, and a whole creative energy thrumming through the town that only he would notice. Bucky hoped Steve had at least brought a sketchbook. 

“Just wait ’til you see the main street at night,” Becca said. “Between the snow, Christmas decor, and small-town charm, it’s like something out of a movie.”

“And if you have any interest in learning more about the town, they have a really lovely historical museum,” Winifred added, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the fire and her glass of wine. Her eyes positively sparkled as she spoke to Steve, and Bucky felt quite glad that the blond was there with him. It had been far too long since they’d all been together like this. 

The group spent most of the meal talking about Telluride and what Bucky and Steve wanted to do while they were there. It was actually a really nice meal, and Bucky was beyond thankful that his family hadn’t bombarded them with questions about how they’d started dating. Even Becca behaved herself, which was the most shocking of all, followed closely by the lack of cooing from his mother. He didn’t dare hope for things to remain that way, not wanting to jinx it. 

After they’d finished eating and cleaned up the dishes, Steve and Bucky said goodnight to everyone and headed up to bed. It had been a pretty long day, and they were in agreement that an early night was the perfect way to end it.

However, there was one problem.

“How are we going to sleep?” Bucky questioned, staring at the bed with crossed arms. It was a fairly large bed, but he and Steve were also fairly large. 

Steve, who’d been digging through his duffle bag for pajamas, turned his head to give Bucky a frown. “What do you mean? I’m exhausted. Aren’t you?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. There’s only one bed.”

“Well spotted.”

Bucky briefly wanted to kick the smirk off of Steve’s smug face. “Thanks, asshole. You know what I mean.”

Steve gave a great sigh and turned back to his stuff, silent as he continued to dig for his pajamas. It wasn’t until he’d finally pulled them out and zipped the bag back up that he finally replied. 

“It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before.”

“Yeah, but that was years ago, and you were about half the size you are now.”

It was true. Steve and Bucky hadn’t shared a bed since Steve had had his miraculous growth spurt and grew about twice as big in every direction. In fact, the two of them hadn’t shared a bed since Bucky had moved away from Brooklyn all those years ago. They were different now; bigger, older, pretend-dating. It all felt rather odd to the brunet, and he couldn’t understand how Steve didn’t feel similarly. 

“I think we will survive,” Steve laughed, pulling his shirt off. It was quickly followed by his pants, and Bucky couldn’t look Steve in the eyes again until he’d pulled his sweatpants on.

“Aren’t you going to put a shirt on?” Bucky grumbled, turning away to change into his own pajamas.

Steve laughed again, his expression bewildered. “No. I never sleep with a shirt. You know that. Is that going to make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” That was a damn lie. Bucky had started to feel quite uncomfortable, particularly in his nether regions, the second that Steve’s chiseled chest had come into view. It wasn’t like it was something he hadn’t seen before, but it was his first time seeing it since they’d begun pretend-dating one another. 

God, Bucky felt confused. 

“Good,” Steve replied. Bucky could hear the smile in his voice. 

Without saying another word, the two flicked the lights off and crawled into bed. Bucky did his best not to touch the blond, but it was nearly impossible with his stupid fucking huge shoulders. Every time he readjusted, trying to find a comfortable position, he’d brush up against Steve and mutter a soft ‘sorry.’ Steve had put up with it for a while, until Bucky apparently crossed the line. It was perhaps the tenth time he’d said it. 

“Buck, stop apologizing and go to sleep.”

“Sorry.” Bucky winced. “I mean,” 

“Sleep.”

“Okay.”

At long last he found a comfortable spot on his right side, facing away from Steve, and let his mind fill with white noise. He was tired enough to let his confused thoughts slip away, and hoped that maybe in the morning he’d be back to feeling like his normal self. 

It was unlikely, but a guy could hope, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments, critique, thoughts, kudos, etc... all are quite welcomed! Thanks so much for reading. :)


	5. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Embarrassing questions are asked, siblings take a trip to the store, and the big, strong men chop some wood for the fire. Our heroes continue to act like idiots, and Winifred tries to stay cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. What a summary ^^^ am I right?
> 
> But in all seriousness, this chapter is ALLLL over the place, so I hope it's not too hard to read. I didn't do much editing, so there could very well be a few typos, but I hope you guys enjoy! :)

The following morning found Bucky alone in bed. He reached out to find Steve’s spot empty and cold, and a chill settled into Bucky’s skin. He’d forgotten how cold this particular room could get, with no source of heat. 

He wanted to burrow back into his warm blankets and go back to sleep, but he knew the second he’d try to do that, someone would be up to wake him, so he forced himself up. He raced into the bathroom and peed as quickly as he could before rushing out of the room and into the warm hallway, the smell of breakfast wafting up from the kitchen. 

Bucky took the stairs two at a time, only coming to a stop once he’d reached the kitchen entry way. Steve and Bucky’s mother were standing, backs facing him, working on breakfast. The two were laughing about something, and Bucky leaned up against the frame of the entryway, smiling softly to himself. The sight brought him back to a time during his childhood, when Steve had come over nearly every weekend for breakfast. The blond had always been eager to help out with everything, and Winifred was constantly reminding Bucky about it, telling him that he’d be wise to take a page out of Steve’s book and help out once in a while. Bucky hadn’t really ever taken the advice. He’d always thought that Steve helped out enough for the both of them. 

“Bucky,” his mom greeted, turning, as she noticed him standing a few feet away. Steve gave him a smile that made his chest feel tight and went back to whatever he was seemingly chopping. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Why don’t you go set the table?”

Instead of responding, Bucky wandered over to where a full pot of coffee sat, freshly brewed, and poured himself a mug of the stuff, adding a generous amount of cream and sugar. When he was satisfied with the drink he left the kitchen and made his way to the living room, where his father and sister were watching something on TV. The brick fireplace was blazing, warming the room to a comfortable temperature, and the curtains had been thrown open, the long window framing the blizzard outside like a picture. It reminded Bucky of a painting Steve had told him about seeing in a gallery, something about rabbits.

“What are mom and Steve cooking?” Rebecca asked, not even bothering to pull her eyes away from the television. 

“I don’t know. Go find out for yourself,” Bucky replied, sitting down next to her on the couch. He squinted at the TV and added, “What on earth are you two watching? It looks totally cheap.”

“The Covenant,” she said. “It’s really bad. Have you seen it?”

“No. Why would I watch it if it was really bad?”

She shrugged, muttering, “Hot guys,” and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, probably to try and see what was happening in the poorly-lit film. For a moment she continued to watch silently, and then she looked over at him, her eyes narrowed. Then she looked to the TV once more, and back at him, and back at the screen again. 

“What?” Bucky finally snapped and took a swig of his coffee. 

“You look remarkably like the bad guy,” she pointed out.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Bucky’s dad added. 

Bucky turned his attention back to the film, focusing to try and get a good look at whoever they were talking about. “I do not! I’m much older and far better looking.”

“You used to look just like that.”

He glared daggers at the back of his sister’s head. “My cheeks were definitely never that round. What’s he doing, anyway? What’s with the spider?”

“He’s a witch, Bucky. Are you stupid or something?”

“James!” he heard his mother screech from the dining room, followed by a faint laugh from Steve. “I told you to set the table.”

“Coming!” He called back, hurrying to do his mother’s bidding, if only to escape watching the rest of that movie with his dad and Rebecca. 

Breakfast turned out to be a completely different affair from the previous night’s dinner. 

“So,” Winifred began, the moment they’d tucked into plates loaded with eggs, bacon and toast, “I have to ask, boys. How did you become romantically involved?”

“Mom,” Bucky whined, but Steve answered without a problem.

“It was sort of my doing,” the blond said, turning reminiscent eyes on Bucky, as if he were actually remembering the moment that never happened. If Bucky hadn’t known better, even he would’ve been fooled by the face, and he felt heat crawl up his face. “I surprised him with a dinner when I knew Sam wouldn’t be home. I’d been holding my feelings back for so long, and I couldn’t do it any longer. I could only hope that he felt the same way.”

Bucky cleared his throat and gave Steve a small but genuine smile. “Of course I did… do,” he amended. 

Winifred looked like she was going to cry, and Bucky had to avoid making eye contact with her, afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade if he did. “That’s so sweet, Steve. He hasn’t dated anyone in so long. I thought that perhaps he would be alone forever. I was worried.”

Bucky suppressed an eye roll and let Steve respond.

“I think he was just waiting for the right partner, ma’am,” he said, eyes still solely focused on Bucky, which was beginning to make him a little bit too hot, as if Steve’s gaze was burning him. He had turned to his food and could only see him out of the corner of his eye, but it was still enough to make him hyper aware of Steve’s lingering eyes. “He may not seem it, but Bucky’s become a rather sentimental man. He wouldn’t date just anybody.”

The heat continued to rise up Bucky’s throat and face, and he wished Steve would shut up. Looking down embarrassedly at the table, he bit his lip and tried not to laugh hysterically. That was the moment when Becca decided to land a hard blow to his shin with her sock-clad and shockingly strong foot. 

“Fucking what the fuck?” he shouted, piercing his sister with what he hoped was his most intimidating face. 

“James! That’s no way to speak to your sister.” Winifred’s eyes looked as if they might leap out of her head, like she hadn’t heard him use such language before, which was laughable.

“The little shit kicked me in the shin!” he complained, scooting closer to Steve, hoping it would be harder for her to aim another kick at him. “She’s not my sister. She’s the devil.”

“Honestly,” Bucky’s dad scoffed, “will the two of you ever get along?”

“No,” they both chimed at once, still glaring at one another. A staring match had ensued, and Bucky was intent on winning. His eyes were watering already, but his sister was beginning to squint. 

“And how are your friends handling your relationship?” Winnie continued, trying to swerve the conversation back to where it had been originally. Bucky wasn’t sure whether he’d rather fight with his sister or talk about his fake relationship with Steve. Both of them felt equally dangerous. 

“Oh they’re fine,” Steve replied, waving his hand in a nonchalant manner. “Sam likes to tease us, and I think Nat had been pushing for it to happen for a long time, if her smug face over the news was anything to go by. Honestly, the two of us had been pining over one another for quite a long time, but being the big idiots we are, were too slow to realize it, right Buck?”

Steve nudged Bucky in his ribs, forcing him to break eye contact with his sister. She grinned in triumph. 

“Damn it Steve, I was winning that one.”

Steve responded with a hard stare. 

“Right,” Bucky quickly amended, clearing his throat and straightening in his seat, “we’re idiots.”

“At least your self aware.”

Bucky was going to kill his sister. 

 

***

 

With the end of breakfast came what Bucky believed would be the greatest horror he’d have to face for the trip’s entirety: grocery shopping with Rebecca.

Ever since he’d gotten his driver’s license, it had become a bit of a tradition for the Barnes siblings to take their mother’s carefully-written lists and go collect the food items needed for their holiday meals. She’d been writing them each separate lists ever since the second year, when they had practically brawled in the middle of the store, because they’d been arguing over an item on the list. The two of them had never been very fond of the tradition, but their parent’s believed it was good for them.

Bucky suspected that his parents secretly liked to torture their children. 

It wasn’t that Bucky hated his sister. In fact, he was actually fond of her. He respected her, admired her; after all, she was very much like him. That was the problem. They were so alike that it was nearly impossible not to clash heads, which often resulted in heated arguments not suitable for public. 

This year was even worse, as it meant leaving Steve behind with his parents. George had immediately recruited Steve to help him chop firewood the second Winnie had mentioned the traditional Barnes sibling outing. Bucky was beyond grateful for his father, because he could handle him being alone with Steve, but his mother was a different matter entirely. 

He was barely able to shoot Steve a pout before he and his sister were shoved out the door, mitten clad and with lists in hands.

“I can’t wait until I have kids of my own to do my bidding,” Rebecca muttered, climbing grumpily into the family van. That’s right. On top of everything, Bucky was expected to drive a minivan into the village. Oh, the embarrassment. 

“You should never have children,” he retorted, backing out of the driveway. 

Rebecca snarled but didn’t reply, just crossed her arms and stared out of the window as they drove. 

It didn’t take long to make it to the store, as Telluride was a really small town, and the siblings split up the moment they walked through the front doors, wanting to be in and out as quickly as possible. Bucky only had about eight items on his list, and he moved easily through the store with a small basket, grabbing things off of the shelves without hardly having to look. After years of what was essentially the exact same shopping list, he knew his way around the small store pretty well. 

Within fifteen minutes he was meeting back up with his sister at the front of the store, the two of them standing grumpily in a long line. Bucky shifted his basket from hand to hand, sighing in annoyance at having to wait. 

“So… you and Steve,” Rebecca said, nudging him in the ribs. 

“Becca,” Bucky groaned, not wanting to discuss the topic with his little sister, but she didn’t let him continue.

“You don’t really expect me to believe that you are actually dating, right?” she scoffed and flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder, reminding him too much of Nat. The thought of the two girls meeting each other was horrific, and he vowed to never let it happen.

Bucky rolled his eyes and focused his gaze straight ahead, rubbing at the dark stubble that’d grown across his jaw in the previous couple of days. “I’m not going to argue with you about this, Rebecca. Believe what you want, but Steve and I are together now.”

“I don’t believe you,” she sang, taunting him.

He didn’t want to respond. Really, he didn’t. “We share clothes.”

His sister snorted, and he suppressed another eye roll. “Bucky, you’d share clothes with me if they’d fit you.”

God damn it, Nat, he thought, cursing the redhead for making him look like a fool. His sister knew him too well. “I don’t share clothes with Sam,” he retorted, trying to save himself.

“Well, you haven’t known Sam that long,” she pointed out. 

Bucky was done discussing the matter, and he turned, fixing his sister with bitchiest face he could muster. “You just don’t want to believe that Steve and I are together, because you’re jealous.”

Becca’s mouth snapped closed and she turned her head away from him, trying to hide the blush that had crept onto her face. Bucky only felt minimally bad for embarrassing his sister, and the two stood in an uncomfortable silence for the rest of their wait. 

 

***

 

“How have things been, Steve?”

The blond turned to look at Mr. Barnes as the two of them chopped wood, their breaths puffing out in white clouds in the cold December air. “Uh, things have been good, sir… er, George.”

The dark haired man gave Steve a wide grin, looking for a moment so much like his eldest child. “Lighten up, son. Remember, you’re family, here.”

Steve swallowed and nodded, swinging an axe down to split another piece of wood, before adding it to their ever growing pile. He hadn’t gone outside and done manual labor like this in some time, and he had to admit that he was enjoying it. “Right,” he eventually responded, taking a deep breath and smiling to himself. “Things have been great, really. Work is picking up a little bit, and it’s nice being out of school.”

“It sounds like Bucky is doing well for himself,” George commented, grunting as he swung his own axe. “We don’t talk to him as often as we should, but he seems busy.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s doing really well. Stark can be a bit of an ass, but he seems to be a good boss.”

Bucky had recently been hired on for an engineering position at Stark Industries. Bucky usually kept Steve up to date with whatever was going on at work, but ninety percent of it went over Steve’s head. He was an art major, and scientific lingo wasn’t really a part of his vocabulary. The job seemed to be making Bucky happy though, and that was all Steve cared about. 

“And after the accident?” the older man questioned tentatively, concern shadowing his face. 

Steve chewed his lip for a moment. Bucky had been in a bad car accident eight months ago, t-boned in the middle of a busy New York intersection. His side airbags hadn’t deployed, resulting in a broken and lacerated left arm. He’d eventually recovered, though he hadn’t replaced his car since then, choosing to take the subway instead, and he was now left with a heavily scarred arm. Bucky rarely wore short sleeves, opting to keep the arm covered. He thought it was ugly, but Steve saw it as a representation of his survival and strength. He thought it was a beautiful, powerful thing, but Bucky refused to see it that way.

“He’s okay,” Steve responded truthfully. “He’s recovered well, but he doesn’t like to talk about it.”

George nodded and wiped at the cool sweat on his brow, taking a break to lean against the axe. “His mother worries about him all of the time, probably too much. I keep telling her he can take care of himself,” he paused, as if trying to pick his next words. “Rebecca and James were both handfuls growing up, but they’re good kids.”

Steve chuckled in agreement, relieved that the other man hadn’t pushed the subject of Bucky’s accident. “She does seem really happy to see him. I’ll try to urge him to call more often.”

George waved him off. “Don’t mind Winnie. She has to learn to let him go at some point. It won’t be long before Rebecca is heading the same way, and I have a feeling it won’t take her long to follow in her brother’s footsteps. Neither of them have ever felt at home in Idaho.”

“Bucky is a New Yorker, through and through,” Steve replied, nodding. 

There was another pause, the two men smiling stupidly at nothing, content to be in each other’s easy presences. Steve was finding himself continuously more and more thankful that Bucky had made such a mistake that resulted in Steve coming along on this trip. He hadn’t realized it before, but a couple weeks away from home had been exactly what he’d been needing, and he was lucky to have ended up in such a beautiful place, with people who he really loved. 

“I guess we can haul this wood back up to the house,” George finally spoke, breaking Steve out of his thoughts. “This should be enough to last us until the end of the trip.” He ran a hand over his greying hair as his eyes scanned over their large pile, and then he glanced up at Steve. “And Steve?”

“Yes, sir?”

George cracked another wide smile. “If Winnie tries to dig a bit too deep into you boys’ private lives, just ask her to stop. I know she can be a little… overstimulating, but she means well. She’ll ease off if you want her to.”

Steve returned George’s bright smile. “I don’t mind much, but thank you, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky’s dad shook his head, a deep rumbling laugh rising out of his throat. “It’s George,” he chuckled, baffled that Steve was continuing to address him with such formality. “Or Dad. Nothing else.”

Steve felt his cheeks warm, and once again he found himself awful glad to be where he was.

 

***

 

The rest of the day was spent showing Steve around town. He and Bucky had lunch, and then Steve insisted that they go to the Historical Museum. Bucky had been there about a dozen times, so it wasn’t anything new to him, but the blond had enjoyed looking at all of the exhibits they had on mining and the native peoples, and Bucky wasn’t about to be the person that denied him such a simple happiness.

After the museum, Steve let Bucky take the reigns on their little adventure. First they rode on the gondola, because Bucky had decided that riding on it was the equivalent to popping your Telluride cherry, and then they spent the rest of their time meandering past shops and cafes, Bucky telling stories about the things he and his sister had gotten up to on their winter holiday’s in the tiny mountain village. It was snowing heavily still, and the two were bundled in heavy coats and thick scarves, knit hats atop their heads. 

Bucky burrowed his chilled face down into his grey scarf as they approached his intended destination: the Madeline Hotel. Steve looked at him expectantly as they came to a stop, his own pink nose just peeking out over the top of his blue and white striped scarf. When it was clear that Bucky wasn’t going to explain, he said “What’s this?”

They stood outside of a fenced ice skating rink, a few people skating in circles around and around on the frozen pool, the children giggling and catching snowflakes on their tongues. Lights were twinkling on the surrounding buildings, and there was soft Christmas music coming from somewhere.

“It’s the Mountain Village Ice Rink. It’s my favorite place to go skating,” Bucky responded, smiling softly under the cover of his scarf. 

He could see the bewildered look Steve was giving him out of the corner of his eyes, so he finally turned to look at the blond. “What?” he asked, when Steve continued to stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You ice skate?”

“I believe that was implied.”

“Jerk,” Steve muttered under his breath, shaking his head at his best friend. “I didn’t know you like to ice skate. We’ve never gone, and we have Rockefeller Center, for god’s sake.”

“I thought you didn’t like skating, Steve,” Bucky teased, giving the taller boy a nudge with his shoulder. “Something to do with two left feet.”

“If I’d known that you like it, I would’ve gone with you,” Steve replied simply, as if the words weren’t enough to turn Bucky’s stomach in knots. 

The brunet didn’t know how to respond, so he focused his attention back on the ice skaters. It was a quiet day. Most of the villagers were either staying inside by their warm fires, or up on the hill, skiing. Bucky was glad for it, because he hated trying to wind his way through the massive crowds that occasionally plagued the village streets. Yeah, he was from New York, so what? When he was on vacation, the last thing he wanted to be reminded of was home.

After a few minutes of watching, Bucky regretfully tore his eyes away from the happy people who were trying their best not to fall flat on their asses, and turned to head back to the cabin. “C’mon, Stevie. Let’s go eat dinner.”

 

***

 

Bucky was beyond relieved when dinner went as smoothly as the previous night had, after such a nightmarish breakfast. Becca, though she was pretty chatty, still seemed subdued after Bucky’s telling-off at the store, which he was refusing to feel guilty about, and his mother kept the personal questions to a minimum. It felt nearly too good to be true, what with how much the women in his family loved to gossip and wanted every detail they could possibly get about your most private life. 

He and Steve ended up with dishes duty that night. Bucky washed and Steve dried, while his mother prepared some hot cocoa for everyone, his father and sister still talking loudly at the kitchen table. Bucky felt happier than he had in a while, a soft burning sensation warming his chest, and he was finding it hard to keep the stupid smile off of his face. He noticed Steve glancing at him every so often, probably wondering what Bucky was grinning like an idiot for, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. Everything just felt right. 

“Marshmallows, Bucky?” he heard his mother ask, to which his smile only grew, and Steve gave him another one of those obvious looks. 

“Of course, mom,” he responded, holding a wet, clean bowl out for Steve to take. “How else could I possibly have my hot cocoa?”

Winifred laughed and Bucky chuckled softly. He really was beginning to wonder what screw had come loose in his head, not being able to recall ever feeling so gleeful before. The thought only made him laugh harder, the heat of the room and his pure joy warming the back of his neck. Next to him, he heard Steve suck in a small breath. 

“Buck.”

Bucky turned to look at the blond, whose cheeks and nose were pink, a pretty flush that was indigenous to Steve’s pale porcelain skin. His blue, blue eyes were widened a fraction and his plump lips were parted slightly, a look akin to awe skirting over his features. 

“Yeah?”

The brunet didn’t know what response he’d expected from the blond, but the sudden, warm hand at the nape of Bucky’s neck and Steve’s plush lips pressed against his own hadn’t been it. In fact, it hadn’t even been included on the list of things he would’ve ever expected from his best friend, and it was all he could do not to pull back in shock. 

The soft kiss ended before Bucky had even gotten the chance to truly process what was happening and appreciate it. As Steve pulled back, he leaned down to whisper to Bucky, his warm breath ghosting over the brunet’s ear, causing his skin to prickle. “It’s been a whole twenty four hours, Buck,” he murmured, and Bucky had to fight to keep his eyes open at the low , husky timber of his friend’s voice. “They were probably starting to wonder.”

When Steve pulled away fully, returning to his drying duties, Bucky worked to school his features into an expression of exasperated love, like he was embarrassed that Steve would kiss him in front of his family, but he was happy about it, nonetheless. He found it shockingly easy to pull off. 

“Oh, Bucky,” he heard his mom sigh, and his entire world swung back into an uncomfortably sharp focus. 

The brunet grabbed another bowl out of the hot, soapy water, and refused to look back, not wanting anyone to see the embarrassment on his face. “For god’s sake, mom. Don’t start.”

 

***

 

An hour and a cup of hot cocoa later, Steve could still feel the imprint of Bucky’s soft lips on his own. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Bucky that his family was probably beginning to question their relationship, but he couldn’t lie to himself. He’d wanted to kiss his best friend. Between the content smile on Bucky’s face and the happy feeling settling over the room, the brunet had seemed to glow, and Steve hadn’t been able to help himself. He really hoped he hadn’t made Bucky uncomfortable, and he sure as hell hoped that he hadn’t been able to pick up on Steve’s very real enthusiasm, but instead shrugged it off as talented acting. He wasn’t ready to confess to Bucky that he’d been thinking about kissing him for quite a while now. 

The brunet had fallen asleep shortly after finishing his hot drink. Steve, Becca and his parents had continued to chatter quietly for a while after, but now Steve sat quietly in the living area, only sleeping Bucky to keep him company. It was starting to get pretty late, and he figured they should head up to bed soon, but he was having a hard time forcing himself to wake his friend, who looked so peaceful with his had cradled against the arm rest of the couch, his feet tucked securely in Steve’s lap. 

Steve decided to give the brunet a few more minutes, and it was only when his own eyes began to droop, unable to focus any longer on the dying embers of the fire, that he decided to wake Bucky up. He leaned over, softly brushing long, stray hairs off of Bucky’s face, smiling gently to himself. 

“Buck,” he whispered, trying to keep from giggling at the scrunched nose and unhappy noise he got in response. “Bucky, you need to wake up, so we can go up to bed.”

“Carry me,” was the grumbled response he received. 

Steve couldn’t help but snort at that one. “You’re way too heavy for me to carry up all of those stairs. Unless you want a broken neck, I suggest you get up now.”

The brunet still refused to move, so Steve carefully moved his feet out of his lap and stood. “Fine. I’ll go upstairs and sleep by myself, and you can stay down here all by yourself, without any blankets.”

“Noooo,” Bucky whined, finally blinking his huge, grey eyes open. Steve momentarily felt enraptured, caught up in those pale, sleepy orbs. “I’m coming, just give me a second.”

Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded. Bucky held a hand out to him, and he helped to pull the shorter man to a standing position.

The two had barely made it to the bedroom before Bucky was collapsing into bed, curling up under the covers with a shiver. Steve stared at the sight amusedly, much to Bucky’s disappointment. “Hurry up, Stevie,” he frowned. “I’m freezing over here, pal,” all of his embarrassment about having to share a bed, apparently gone.

Steve chuckled and pulled off his shirt before sliding under the blankets, next to the brunet. Bucky wasted no time in cuddling right up to Steve, his teeth quietly chattering. Steve tried to keep his surprise to himself as Bucky rested his head on Steve’s bare chest, knowing that his friend was only being so clingy because he was cold. He couldn’t keep from yelping, however, when Bucky decided to run his freezing cold feet over Steve’s ankles and shins. 

Bucky chuckled quietly. “Night, Stevie.”

An exasperated sigh escaped Steve’s chest, and he let his own eyes slide shut. “Goodnight, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Covenant thing has been done before, right? I feel like it has, but I couldn't pass it up. That movie is just pure gold. Wow.
> 
> As always, comments, kudos, critique, etc are all welcomed, and I'd LOVE to hear any ideas. It's been a minute since I've written any fanfiction, and like I said, I'm new to writing Marvel. Steve and Bucky are difficult characters to capture.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Realizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve, and the boys have a whirlwind of a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow. There is really no pattern to the way I update. I'm sorry about that. 
> 
> Anywho! The story should only be about ten chapters, I've concluded, and it should be finished by the New Year! It felt like this update took forever, but I hope you all enjoy it. Finally it might be heading somewhere... interesting. :)

“Why the fuck couldn’t we just buy a tree?” Bucky complained, dragging his feet begrudgingly through the knee-deep snow of the woods. He, his sister, his father and Steve had just finished chopping down the biggest tree that George could possibly find that would still fit inside the house, though Bucky had a feeling that his father had truly pushed the limits this time.

“I swear to god,” Rebecca added, groaning as she helped the three boys heave the huge tree towards the van, “if we get home and this thing doesn’t fit through the door, I’m ditching Christmas.” Bucky suspected she’d read his mind.

George Barnes gave a cheerful laugh, apparently unperturbed by the weight of the tree and the depth of the freezing snow. “You kids complain too much. Back in my day...”

“Oh my god, dad, don’t even start with that old man bullshit,” Becca scoffed, red in the face and wild strands of hair sticking out of her long, dark braid.

Steve was chuckling, and Bucky snapped his head to look back at the blond, glaring suspiciously. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He couldn’t believe it. Steve was smiling! And he didn’t even look winded. Stupid fucking adonis of a man.

“C’mon, Buck. It doesn’t get more authentic than this.”

“Well, Steven,” Bucky huffed, jerking his head to try and flick his messy, long hair out of his face, “this may be how you enjoy spending your Christmas Eve, but I’d much rather be bundled up next to a nice, warm fire, watching ‘It’s a Wonderful Life,’ or some other spectacularly cheesy shit.”

Steve snorted and they all dropped the tree, having reached the van. It only took them a few minutes to get it strapped to the top, and soon they were heading back down a bumpy road towards the cabin. Bucky rubbed his hands together, breathing warm air on them, the tingling feeling in his fingers nearing on painful. Between all of the bags he had packed, he couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten a pair of gloves. He’d ended up wearing his sister’s fingerless mittens, which hadn’t done much to help.

They decorated the tree minimally, wrapping it in warm, white string lights. Bucky found three different tree toppers in their small box of decorations and told Steve that he had to pick, since he was the guest. There were two different angels and a big, silver star. Steve chose the star and stood on top of a small step stool to carefully place it at the top of the giant spruce, his cheeks rosy from the warmth of the fire blazing in the sitting room. Bucky grinned to himself as he watched.

After they were finished, everybody began placing presents under the tree. Bucky saw that Steve had gotten gifts for his parents and sister, and couldn’t help but protest and tell the blond that he really hadn’t needed to get them anything.

“Look, they got presents for me,” Steve pointed out, gesturing towards a few gifts that were in a pile for him. Two of them were from Bucky, but the others were from his family. “If I hadn’t gotten anything, I would’ve felt horrible. Plus, I consider your family like my own, so I like getting things for them.”

Bucky couldn’t argue with that, so he gave Steve a small smile in response. What had he done to deserve having someone like Steve in his life?

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching old Christmas movies, including, yes, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’ It was Bucky’s favorite, and he hadn’t gone a single Christmas without seeing it, so he wasn’t going to start now. Steve hadn’t watched it since he was young, and Bucky found himself watching the blond more than the movie, intrigued with all of Steve’s reactions to the film. Bucky’s favorite part of the whole afternoon had been when Steve had teared up at the end, when little Zuzu says, ‘Every time a bell rings, an angel gets it’s wings,’ and he had to suppress the urge to tease his best friend.

It was nearly a perfect day, aside from dragging the huge ass tree through the snow. In fact, it had been so wonderful that Bucky was beginning to feel suspicious, knowing that something was going to disrupt the happy glow he was currently living in. He couldn’t recall a single day in his entire life, spent with his family, that had gone so perfectly smooth.

Dinner brought the answer to all of Bucky’s suspicions.

“Have you two thought at all about moving out of the city?” Winifred asked randomly, in the middle of a conversation they’d been having about the meal quality of using only bread and potatoes. How they’d gotten on such a topic, Bucky wasn’t entirely sure, but he was far more keen on the idea of continuing the random conversation than answering his mother’s question.

“Mom, what? No, we haven’t talked about moving out of the city,” Bucky said, eyebrows pulling into a frown as he turned his attention to his mother.

Her blue eyes widened. “Really? Well, I don’t think it’s necessarily the best place to settle down. It was hard to raise you two there. It’s a difficult environment for children, too fast paced and crowded. Wouldn’t you like to have a yard?”

The fork he was holding suspended, halfway to his mouth, shook. Bucky actually couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He glanced at his sister, who appeared to be as confused as he was, and then at his father, who was giving his wife a concerned look. Bucky didn’t even want to know what face Steve was making and avoided looking at him altogether. “What in the hell are you talking about? I’m not settling down or raising kids anytime soon, if ever!” he choked out, panic gripping at his throat as he forced the words out. He hated discussing things he wasn’t ready for, and his mom knew not to push him. Bucky had no idea what had gotten in to her.

“I simply assumed,” she murmured quietly, taken aback by everyone’s reactions. “I just… you and Steve have known each other so long. I figured it was serious.”

Bucky finally gave Steve a quick glance. The blonde was flushed, his whole face rosy with embarrassment, but he was still looking bravely at Winifred. Bucky could feel a the beginnings of a panic attack smothering him, his whole body shaking. He dropped the fork, and it clattered, knocking off of his plate and onto the floor. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten the both of them into this mess. “Mom, that doesn’t mean we want to settle down immediately. Steve’s barely finished school, and I have a great job in the city that I have no desire to quit.”

“You really haven’t thought about kids? At all, James?”

Bucky couldn’t deal with this at the moment. He knew his mother wanted grandchildren, but it’s not as if he were forty years old! He had years to decide whether or not to have kids. He hated that Steve was getting thrown under the bus with him too, and he didn’t know how to get his mom to stop asking such personal questions without yelling at her. He really didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“I have to go,” he said slowly, brushing a wayward strand of dark hair behind his ear, trying to contain all of the emotions that were flooding him. “I’ll, uh… I’ll be back.”

Bucky pushed back from the table and stood up. Steve reached to try and grab his hand, but Bucky was faster and was out the front door, with his coat in hand, before he could really even process what he was doing. The cold hit him like a ton of bricks, and he slid his jacket on, teeth already clacking in the below-freezing temperature. He hadn’t even grabbed a hat. Bucky was going to regret this decision before long.

 

***

 

“I’m so sorry, Winifred,” Steve breathed, pushing back his own chair so he could follow Bucky.

Mrs. Barnes waved him off, her eyes suspiciously wet. “No, no, dear. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I know Bucky doesn’t like to talk about certain things.”

“He’s… sensitive,” Steve responded, standing. “Don’t worry about it. Really, it’s okay. He’ll get over it.”

She sniffled and gave him a small smile, the same one that Bucky usually gave him if he was upset but trying not to show it. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Steve gave her a nod and ran upstairs to grab his and Bucky’s hats before running out of the house, snatching his coat off of a hook in the foyer as he went. Bucky had a pretty good head start, but after their tour of the town the previous day, Steve had a good idea of where his friend might’ve gone. He hoped he wasn’t wrong, or he’d be looking all night for him.

The walk only took about twenty minutes, but it was enough to chill Steve to his bones. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he’d shoved his gloves in his coat pocket earlier that day, and his hat kept his ears warm, but he could still feel the cold seeping slowly into every inch of his body. There were clouds hovering high above him, and they provided a little warmth on the bitter-cold night, but he found himself wishing for snow. It always felt warmer when it was snowing.

The moment the hotel came into view, Steve’s blue eyes began scanning the small crowd that was gathered, searching for a familiar dark head. A soft sigh escaped his lips when he noticed Bucky, and he couldn’t help the pleased smile that burst into life on his freezing face.

Bucky was leant against the railing that blocked off the ice rink from the street, his face distant as he watched the current skaters going in circles. Laughter filled the air and grew louder as Steve neared the rink, the scratching noises of skates on ice muffled by the hat pulled over his ears.

The blond slipped his gloves off of his hands as he jogged across the street, towards his friend. He was loathe to interrupt Bucky’s thoughts, but didn’t hesitate in approaching him, wanting to make sure he was alright.

“Hey, can you hold my gloves for a second? I usually warm them by the fire, but you are way hotter.”

Bucky’s wide, grey eyes turned on Steve, surprise evident in their stormy depths. “You found me.”

Steve gave the shorter man a dramatic eye roll. “Of course, you jerk. Do you really think I could’ve missed the way you looked at this place yesterday? I thought it was the obvious escape location.”

Bucky gave him a bashful grin, his earlier upset seeming to have simmered down. “I guess I’m obvious.”

“Kind of,” Steve agreed, shrugging. He pressed his gloves and Bucky’s hat to the brunet’s chest. “I meant what I said about taking my gloves though. Your hands have to be frozen.”

Bucky took the items with a grateful smile, quickly slipping them on with a pleased hum. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to get the blood flowing through his hands. “Did you really just use a cheesy pick-up line on me?”

Steve snorted. “You’re only realizing that now?”

“My mind was in other places,” Bucky responded, turning his attention back to the skaters. His cheeks and nose were a deep red color, flushed from the cold. The lights of the hotel and street lamps reflected off of his huge eyes like sparkles on a stormy lake.

“You know your mom didn’t mean to upset you,” Steve muttered, not taking his eyes off of the brunet.

“I know,” Bucky sighed, crossing his arms on the railing. “I didn’t mean to react so dramatically. I was overwhelmed.”

Steve didn’t respond, knowing that Bucky was going to continue. If he knew anything about his best friend, he didn’t doubt that there was small rant soon to follow.

It took Bucky a couple minutes to say anything more, face still serenely distant. “I hate talking about the future,” he admitted, the words coming out on white puffs of warm air. “My mom knows that. It’s always been a difficult subject for me. I don’t feel completely sure about my life currently, nor have I ever, so why would I want to talk about something I’m even less sure about?”

He trailed off, and Steve felt like Bucky was more speaking out loud to himself than to the blond, but he responded anyway. “What makes you feel so unsure about your life?”

“I don’t know,” the brunet responded truthfully.

Steve didn’t want to let him off that easy. He wanted to help Bucky feel more satisfied with his life, tired of seeing him so downtrodden and discontent all of the time. “Well, you have a new job that you like. You’ve got friends and a decent apartment. You fit in in New York better than anyone else I know in the city. What is it you’re missing? Clearly there’s something.”

Bucky turned to him with knit brows, chewing his lip thoughtfully as he looked up at Steve with those big eyes. For a long time he did nothing but look, until at last he shook his head and repeated, “I don’t know.”

He didn’t believe Bucky, but Steve let it slide, not wanting to push his friend any further that night, so he changed the subject. “So, this guy I know told me that this isn’t a bad place to skate,” he smiled, relived when Bucky’s mouth twisted into a thankful grin as well. “What d’you say we give it a go?”

“Not scared of falling on your ass?” Bucky teased, but began leading him inside, nonetheless. “From what I hear, you’ve got two left feet.”

Steve gave a bright laughed and followed Bucky through a set of glass doors, the sudden wave of warm air stinging his cheeks. “I’m definitely afraid of falling on my ass, but I’m willing to risk it.”

The brunet chuckled as well, a soft mutter of ‘punk’ whispered under his breath.

 

***

 

Bucky couldn’t believe it. Steve, his actual hero, had shown up with gloves and a hat, saving his poor hands and ears, and was now skating carefully alongside him, focusing all his energy on trying not to fall. He hadn’t seen Steve skate in years, and he couldn’t deny that the sight was a little bit hilarious, but he was trying not to laugh at the blond.

“You’re doing well, Stevie,” he grinned, skating easily over the ice. It was rough from a busy evening of people skating atop it, but he’d been on worse.

“Bullshit,” Steve guffawed, stumbling and nearly losing his balance. He grabbed Bucky’s hand in panic, and the shorter man tensed, stopping Steve from falling and dragging him down along for the ride. “See what I mean?” Steve added breathlessly. “I’m crap at this.”

“You’ll get better,” Bucky assured him. “Besides, this isn’t the best ice ever.”

Bucky didn’t let go of Steve’s hand and pulled him along, giggling every time the huge, clumsy blond almost fell. He told himself it was because he felt guilty for taking Steve’s gloves, and at least this way he could keep one of Steve’s hands warm, but deep down he knew that he really just liked it. He wanted to hold his best friend’s hand.

The revelation scared Bucky, but it also left a lingering warmth in his chest.

It was starting to get late, and aside from one other person, they were the only two left on the ice. The rink was technically only open until 8:00, but they hadn’t been kicked out yet. Nearly everyone in the town knew Bucky, even though he was only around once a year, and with a little bit of charm he could get away with almost anything. A calm had settled over Bucky, and though he still felt bad for acting out earlier, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel upset about it at the moment. The lights surrounding them sparkled off of the ice prettily, and the Christmas lights and decorations, draped over the surrounding trees and buildings, helped to cheer him up. As much as Bucky bitched about the holidays, he really did love this time of the year.

Suddenly there was a tug at his hand, and Bucky only had a second to realize what was happening before he and Steve hit the ice. They tumbled down, both trying futilely to catch their balance, and ended up in a pile. Steve was atop Bucky, his face only inches away from the brunet’s, apologizing profusely. Bucky couldn’t respond, flushed and staring up at Steve in a sort of haze.

He was in love. Good god, he was so in love.

“Hey are you two alright?” a worried voice came out of nowhere, and both boys looked up to see the girl, that’d been skating alone, hurrying towards them. Her hair was a pale blond, her doe-eyes a kind brown, and Bucky distantly thought that she was quite pretty. He really could appreciate feminine beauty, even though he never felt attracted to it.

“I think so,” Steve replied, finally rolling off of Bucky and onto his knees, trying to stand up. When it was clear that he was a lost cause, the girl skated over to help him, gently tugging him into a standing position. Steve thanked her and she moved to do the same for Bucky, who hadn’t even attempted to get up himself, still lying stunned on the cold ground.

“Th-thanks,” Bucky stuttered out, shivering as the shock and cold finally settled in.

“Are _you_ okay?” she asked him, her eyes full of honest concern. “You seem like you might’ve had your brain rattled a little bit.”

Bucky gave a hollow chuckle and shook his head. “I promise I’m alright. Just cold. We should probably get back home,” he said.

Steve nodded in agreement, his whole face pink. “We probably should. Thanks again, er…” he trailed off, holding a hand out to the girl.

“Sharon,” she smiled, shaking Steve’s offered hand. “You two get home safe, and happy holidays.”

“Hey, you too,” Steve said, earnest as ever.

She began to skate away but paused, looking back over her shoulder. “By the way, you two look really cute together,” she added, giving the boys a knowing grin. Bucky wanted to die. “Take good care of each other.”

Bucky suddenly lost the ability to speak, but Steve saved him once again, laughing and thanking her again, before they made their way off the ice.

His voice didn’t return to him for the entire walk home, and he felt bad, because Steve was giving him those puppy-dog eyes like he thought he’d done something wrong. Of course he hadn’t. Bucky wanted to tell Steve that his problem was entirely with himself, but every time he opened his mouth to speak, his throat would close up, cutting off the words.

It took them a little longer to get home than was normal, their joints stiff from the cold, and it was nearly 10:00 when they arrived. Everyone had already gone to sleep, and Bucky felt himself relax a little bit, glad he didn’t have to deal with his family right away. The two went upstairs and changed into their pajamas, silent as the still night outside, and slid into bed.

Finally, long after they’d flicked the light off, Steve spoke. “Buck, are you okay?”

His voice was so concerned that Bucky had to force himself to finally speak, not wanting to upset Steve any further. “Yeah, I’m okay, Stevie. I’m drained after today, but I’m sure I’ll be back to normal in the morning.”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas,” Steve noted. Bucky wasn’t sure if he was reminding himself of that or if he was reminding Bucky, but either way, the brunet couldn’t help his snarky response.

“Good job, Stevie. I’ll give you a gold star as soon as I can get my hands on one.”

Steve gave his shoulder a light punch and the two burst into quiet laughter, all of the tension draining out of the room. No matter what happened between Steve and Bucky, they always returned to normal before too long. They were practically two halves of a whole, making it so easy to be around one another.

When their giggles finally died down, Bucky looked at Steve’s dark silhouette, the dim glow from the skylight illuminating his forehead, the tip of his nose, the swell of his smiling lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Steve responded, his voice whisper quiet, as if he were trying not to upset the soft happiness that filled the room.

“Coming to find me. It helped to take my mind off of things.”

Steve’s smile widened, light glinting off of his pretty, white teeth. “I’ll always be around to find you when you get lost, Buck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, Kudos, Critique, Ideas... whatever! All are very appreciated, and thanks AGAIN for reading. You're all lovely. :) I apologize for any typos. Hah! If you ever catch anything, please let me know. I don't have anyone editing these guys, and it's so hard for me to catch stuff on my own.


	7. Christmas Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky loves Christmas morning, and for the most part, this one is no exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH. My. God. 
> 
> If there are a million typos in this chapter, I apologize. I meant to have both Christmas chapters up by the end of the day. But Harry Potter happened... and you can imagine I was distracted. Oh, and Christmas. That was a thing too. 
> 
> But seriously, my mom and I have been marathoning the Harry Potter movies over the last couple days, and I had nearly forgotten how much I love those damn movies. Agh!
> 
> I really, really hope the second part of this is posted by the end of the day tomorrow. Also, I'll read over this bad boy in the morning, because my eyes are so bleary right now that I'd only make things worse, and also I have some cramps that are dead-set on killing me. Sigh. What a day. 
> 
> So anyway... I really hope you all enjoy this chapter! I had a fun time writing it, but if I'm being totally honest, I don't even remember what I wrote... :)

“Steve! Bucky!”

Bucky began to rouse at the sound of his sister’s voice, but couldn’t find it within him to open his eyes and actually wake up. His body felt weighed down by exhaustion, and his eyes felt glued shut. Had he even slept at all the previous night? He felt like he’d just closed his eyes seconds ago. 

“Bucky, god damn it, wake up!”

A weight landed on top of him, and Bucky woke with a gasp, to find his sister sitting on top of him, bouncing up and down on his uncomfortably full bladder, a wicked grin on her face. “Rebecca, what the hell?”

“It’s Christmas, stupid. Get out of bed!”

Bucky turned wide eyes to Steve, and a grin spread across his face to match his sister’s. Steve was squinting at them through bleary, blue eyes, sleepy lines from the pillow spread across the left side of his face.

“It’s Christmas!” Bucky nearly shouted at him, sudden adrenaline coursing through his body. “Steve, it’s Christmas!”

“So I’ve heard.”

Becca slid off of Bucky, and he followed her, standing up and stretching his hands far over his head. “Steve, get up. Oh my god, it’s Christmas! Get up!”

Steve eyed the siblings with worry as they nearly hopped up and down with excitement, looking as if they might explode from pure joy. “Are you two alright?”

Bucky scoffed at his best friend, crossing annoyed arms over his chest. “We are fine. Or at least we will be, once you get your lazy ass out of bed.”

Steve’s eyes glanced to the clock on the bedside table, a look of disbelief flicking across his face. “Buck, it’s only 5:30. You’re never up this early.”

“I am on Christmas,” he sing-songed, sharing another wild look with his sister. “C’mon, Stevie,” he continued, whining. “We have to go open presents.”

“Jesus,” Steve muttered under his breath, flipping back the covers on the bed, “it’s like your five. Fine, I’m getting up.”

Becca and Bucky both let out gleeful squeals and fled the room, not bothering to wait for their blond companion. Steve just shook his head and threw on a shirt before following them, rubbing wearily at his eyes, thinking that it was unlikely he’d gotten enough sleep to deal with this day. 

George and Winifred Barnes were both already awake, knowing their children only too well. Before heading to the sitting room to join them and his sister, Bucky stopped off in the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. The excitement of Christmas was a good way to get him out of his bed, but he was only human, after all. Coffee came first, no exceptions. 

By the time he wandered into the sitting room, hands warmed by the hot beverage he clutched, Steve had made his way down as well. The blond was sitting on the floor, next to the tree, along with Becca and their parents. It was tradition that they sit around the tree to unwrap their gifts, keeping the child-like wonder and excitement of Christmas alive. Bucky grinned and joined them, plopping down cross-legged, between Steve and his sister. 

“Bucky,” his mother greeted him, giving him an unsure smile. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Mom,” he stopped her before she could even get started. He knew she’d never stop if he let her talk. “It’s okay. I’m fine now, and I’m not mad. How can I be? It’s Christmas.”

His mother’s smile widened to an authentic one, her lips curving up with relief. Bucky didn’t miss the grateful look she shot Steve, but he didn’t mind. He was also grateful that Steve had come and found him the previous night, even if he’d ended up making a bit of an ass out of himself. 

“Okay, can we get started?” Becca rolled her eyes at the lot of them, her hair thrown up in a wild bun and sleep still lingering over her heavily. Her bright eyes were sparkling with energy though, and Bucky nodded along vigorously. 

George and Winnie were the first to open their gifts, another Barnes family tradition. Bucky had gotten his mom a robe, a tea infuser and an herb garden, and his father a warm, winter vest and a shaving kit. Steve had helped him a little bit with deciding on the gifts, Bucking having claimed that he was the worst at buying Christmas presents. Honestly, Steve had mostly been there for moral support. Once they’d started shopping, Bucky had had a sudden onslaught of ideas. 

Steve had gotten George and Winifred a bottle of his favorite Cabernet Sauvignon and a box of his favorite Bourbon Cherry Cordials. He’d also done a pencil drawing of a young Bucky and Becca, which had made Winifred tear up quite a bit, causing Steve to blush. Bucky was warmed by the sight, glad to have Steve as a part of the family again. He normally wasn’t one to be so sentimental, but the holidays did something to him; softened him up. 

Bucky, being the eldest child, was the next to open his presents. He received a pair of warm, sturdy, black gloves from Becca, which he thought was hilarious and left him in hysterics for an unacceptable amount of time. From his parents he got a sweater, a french press, and a baking book. 

“Did you tip them off?” Bucky asked Steve, grinning over the top of the huge cookbook. 

Steve gave him a shrug, a small smile tugging at his cherry-red lips. “I might’ve.”

Bucky chuckled and moved to tear the wrapping off of the presents that Steve had gotten him. In the first package was a pair of Merino Wool socks, a soft, heather grey, and a Merino Wool scarf, striped in blues and greys, which matched the red sweater he’d received from his parents. 

“You sneaky bastards,” Bucky laughed, glancing between Steve and his parents. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got another one from Steve, dummy,” Becca commented, pushing the neatly wrapped box towards her brother. 

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her but took the box, carefully unwrapping it, savoring his last present. “You’re just impatient and want to open your own presents. Calm down. Let your big brother enjoy this.”

Becca snorted and Bucky finished opening the gift, revealing a sleek, silver KitchenAid hand mixer. He turned wide, gleeful, blue eyes on Steve. “Is this because of the fit I threw last month?”

For Thanksgiving, Bucky had taken it upon himself to whip up enough baked goods for the whole of Brooklyn. Halfway through a batch of oatmeal cookies, the brunet had proclaimed ‘Fuck stand mixers!’ and mixed the rest of his confections by hand. Steve, admittedly, had tried to stay clear of the kitchen every time Bucky was baking after that day, but it had provided Steve with the perfect gift idea. 

Steve laughed in response, and Bucky explained what had happened to his family. 

“It’s just so much easier to mix things correctly when I have more control,” he finished, trying to justify his outburst at an inanimate object. “Stand mixers miss stuff sometimes. What’s the point if I’m going to have to mix it twice?”

Steve opened his presents after Bucky. He tried to be quick about it, while still taking time to appreciate each gift, since Rebecca was practically vibrating on the other side of her brother. From Bucky’s family he received ski goggles and snow pants, along with a blue sweater that matched Bucky’s red. At this point Bucky explained to him that the family had a tradition of skiing on Christmas day every year, and Bucky had told his parents that he knew Steve didn’t have a proper pair of snow pants. Steve thanked them all very sincerely, though he suddenly felt a little nervous about having to ski later on in the day. He’d never done it before, and if it turned out to be anything like his dancing or ice skating, he was doomed. 

Bucky had gotten Steve a very nice new set of paints and a box of the same Bourbon Cherry Cordials that Steve had gotten for George and Winifred. Everyone chuckled a little at that, amused at how obvious it was that Steve really loved the decadent candies.

“Okay, Becca, it’s your turn,” Steve smiled, urging the girl to tear into her own pile. 

“No, you’ve got one more, Steve,” she pointed out, gesturing at a small, red envelope that Steve had missed. 

His name on the front of it was scrawled in Bucky’s messy-yet-elegant handwriting, and Steve gave his friend a small smile as he picked it up and carefully opened it. There wasn’t a card inside, but rather a piece of folded paper. Steve opened it up and read over it a couple times before the words began to truly sink in, his eyes widening to huge, blue saucers the longer he looked at it. 

Bucky waited, chewing on his lip, a huge grin threatening the corners of his mouth. When Steve finally looked up at him, the shock on his face so extreme, the brunet couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“You look like you’ve gone into shock, Stevie.”

“Buck,” he whispered in awe, looking between the paper and his friend, hands gently shaking. “I can’t accept this.”

Bucky waved him off. “It’s not a big deal, Steve. Really. Stark was perfectly happy giving up the space. He entire floors of that building that are empty. I know it’s not exactly proper, so it could be temporary… until you find a place… but I figured it was better than our living room, and I just…”

Steve cut off his rambling friend, cerulean eyes sparkling. “No, it’s perfect, Buck. Really perfect.”

On the paper were all of the details of Steve’s new studio space, courtesy of Tony Stark, Bucky’s tech-genius boss. The Stark tower composed of nearly one hundred stories, several of which were vacant. When Bucky had approached Stark to ask him about renting out a space for Steve, his boss had been all too happy to pull a few strings for his ‘favorite new employee,’ and in the end, Bucky was able to fit out a large room with huge, floor-to-ceiling windows, completely free of charge. Bucky, at the time, decided not to point out that he was Stark’s only new employee, grateful that the billionaire was willing to let Bucky have some space for his best friend, especially when he’d only been working there for such a short time. 

Bucky couldn’t stop grinning as Steve excitedly explained to the rest of his family what was on the paper. Everyone’s excitement for the blond was so genuine, Winnie clapping excitedly and George giving him a clap on the back. Becca quietly congratulated Bucky on choosing such a thoughtful gift, completely surprising him. It was rare that he got an actual compliment from his little sister, and it felt better than he would’ve cared to admit. 

Once the hubbub over Steve’s studio calmed down, Becca tore into her presents at long last. Becca also received a sweater from their parents, in a pretty shade of violet, a calligraphy set, and a book on cult-classic film. From Steve she got the same exact scarf that he’d gotten Bucky, with an ‘Oh, great,’ and a, ‘What? It matches your guys’ eyes.’ The blond had also gotten her a set of nail polishes, in rich shades of red, navy and plum. 

“I remember you used to love painting your nails. You’d have me do it for you sometimes,” Steve said, as she pulled the red and white paper off of the polishes. “I didn’t know if you still liked to, but heck, the colors were fun to look at. I couldn’t resist.”

Bucky knew that his sister still loved to paint her nails, even if she was severely impatient and usually ruined them before they had a chance to dry, and he was impressed that Steve had remembered such a detail. Becca looked impressed too, and her face was shaded with a deep red. 

“Thanks, Steve. I do love to paint my nails. I can’t believe you remember that.”

Steve shrugged, and she moved on to her gifts from Bucky, grinning like a fool. 

When she revealed the ‘World’s Okayest Sister’ mug, she leveled Bucky with an evil glare, though he could still read through to the amusement beneath the facade. “Wow, thanks a ton, Buck.”

“Anytime, sis.”

Her other gift from him was a book, ‘Bad Feminist,’ by Roxane Gay. Bucky was pleased with her reaction, a genuine smile lighting her face. “I’ve actually been wanting to read this,” she said, her eyes flitting up to meet Bucky’s. “Thanks.”

“It’s a good one. You’ll like it.”

 

***

 

After a hearty breakfast of Belgium waffles, eggs, sausage, and, on Bucky’s part, a load of rich maple syrup, everybody began getting ready to head up the hill for some skiing. 

Bucky dressed in the bathroom, a nervous feeling having settled into his stomach when Steve had begun undressing. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror, sliding his soft, new sweater over his head, followed by his new socks, a pair of jeans, and his ski pants. 

The previous night kept playing over in his head like a film stuck on a loop. Slipping, falling, his tailbone smacking the ice, Steve’s face only an inch from his own. Had his eyes always been so blue, or his lips such a rich rose color? Bucky couldn’t remember. Bucky couldn’t remember what it felt like not to be in love with his best friend. When had he fallen? Bucky knew one thing for sure; he’d been in denial for a long time, possibly years. 

Finally he dared to look at himself in the spotless mirror that hung over the sink. His eyes looked tired, weary, and he couldn’t tell if it was from actual exhaustion, or if he was recognizing a deeper tiredness within himself that others might not notice. His hair was a mess, thrown up in a haphazard bun, small pieces escaping in wild directions, and his lips were chapped and cracked. Bucky was happy with his life, truly, but in all honesty, he knew he’d been taking shit care of himself as of late. Between this wild trip and the stress over adjusting to a new job, he’d sort of forgotten about all the basic human needs that his body craved. 

He really wanted to sleep for a week.

Bucky let out a sigh and wrapped a scarf around his neck, the one Steve had gotten him, and gave himself a weak smile. “C’mon, Bucky,” he muttered. “You can do this.”

He left the bathroom to find Steve, thankfully, dressed. However, at the sight of his blue sweater and white scarf, he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a long groan. 

“What?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe we match. This is so ridiculous.”

Steve snorted and began to move towards Bucky, but the brunet took a step back, putting his hand up to stop Steve, shaking his head. “Oh, no. Don’t come any closer. We’ll make far too patriotic a picture.”

Ignoring him, Steve slapped Bucky’s hand out of the way and slung a huge arm over his shoulders, leading him out of the room. “You’re gonna have to help me with this whole skiing thing, Buck. You’d be better off accepting that we’re going to look like a disassembled flag for the day.”

Bucky groaned again but let Steve drag him downstairs and into the foyer, where Bucky’s parents were already waiting for them. It was about five minutes later when Rebecca finally traipsed in.

“Oh, hell no,” Bucky stated, his head shaking so vigorously that it nearly made him dizzy. “Definitely not. We’ll look like the biggest dumb-asses in town.”

“No!” Winnie exclaimed, all but clapping her hands at the sight of Steve and her children, all matching in their new sweaters and scarves. “You all look adorable!”

“Mom, no, make Becca go change.”

“No time,” Winnie tuts, opening the front door to usher them all outside. “We’re only doing a half day, so we need to head up the hill.”

 

Steve turned out to be annoyingly good at skiing. For having two left feet, the man took to having long, narrow boards strapped to his feet quite well. Bucky, who’d never been terribly great at it, tried not to be jealous. However, despite Steve’s natural skill and Bucky’s long history of skiing, the two of them stayed on the bunny hill all morning, while the rest of the family split off to do more adventurous runs. Bucky knew he had the ability to take on a longer and more interesting track, but he liked the bunny hill, and Steve seemed to be enjoying himself, swerving to and fro across the expanse of white before them, giggling like a child, so he didn’t feel bad. 

The two of them went at it all morning, only taking one break to go to the bathroom and have a snack, and Bucky had to admit that he’d never had such a good time skiing. Normally he spent the time alone, refusing to leave the small hill, and getting teased endlessly by his sister for it afterwards. Having his best friend at his side definitely livened things up, and for once, he actually enjoyed himself. 

Everything went smoothly for the majority of the time. Steve had only fallen a few times, when they’d first started, and Bucky, thankfully, hadn’t had any spectacular wipe-outs, which he considered a win. It wasn’t until their final descent that fate finally caught up to him, naturally.

Everything was going fine. Bucky was watching Steve speeding down the mountain in front of him, the mid-day light glinting off of the black helmet he’d rented. They’d been down the hill too many times to count by this point, and Bucky felt confident enough to keep his head high, eyes scanning the clouds lingering in the distance, promising to gift them with a Christmas storm later that day, and that was why he didn’t notice the deep depression in the packed, snowy ground before him.

Bucky’s ski caught, sending him sprawling. He was just close enough to Steve to slide into the blond, knocking him to the ground, and sending them both tumbling down the mountain. Bucky yelped as he knocked his head against one of Steve’s skis, and he heard Steve make a similar sound as Bucky’s knee connected with his stomach. Bucky felt the fall would never end.

When they finally did come to a stop, neither of the boys moved for a long time, lying spread-eagle at the foot of the bunny hill, covered in snow and freezing cold. 

And then Steve began to laugh.

Bucky sat up, squinting at his friend, who had curled in on himself with the force of his amusement. He honestly couldn’t see how Steve was finding anything funny. All Bucky could focus on was the pounding in his head and the icy cold settling into his bones.

“Why in the fuck are you laughing?” Steve sat up as well, facing him. Their legs were awkwardly angled, sticking out to their sides to accommodate the skis still attached to their feet. “I’m just happy.”

“Happy? What on earth?”

Steve continued to cackle with mirth, his eyes closed and face angled towards the sky, a hand at his chest. When met with such a sight, Bucky found it awfully hard to be annoyed, be he tried his hardest.

“Honestly, Steve. I don’t see what’s funny. My head hurts like a fucking bitch, and I know I got you pretty good with my knee. We are well on our way to being wet and freezing, and you’re laughing.”

Steve reigned himself in, wiping at his eyes, and turned his gaze to meet Bucky’s directly. “I told you. I’m happy. It’s just been a really great day.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say to that, but didn’t have to worry long about it. Suddenly, Steve’s large hands were cradling his jaw, a welcome warmth to his freezing skin, and his lips were meeting Bucky’s in a soft kiss. 

Surprise ripped through Bucky, but he didn’t dare pull back, reciprocating with all that he had. Steve’s lips were soft and a little bit cold, a pleasant contrast to the heat of their mingling breath. When the blond bit softly into Bucky’s bottom lip, he suppressed the soft sound that rose in his throat and gripped Steve’s forearms in his gloved hands, squeezing gently. 

Eventually, after what felt an eternity, yet far too short a time, the two split apart, only pulling away from each other far enough to see one another, foreheads brushing gently. 

“What was that for?” Bucky dared to ask.

Steve’s eyes darted to the side, and Bucky finally pulled completely away from the blond to look. 

Of course. His family was there, standing a few yards away, clearly waiting for them to finish so they could go home. His heart sank to his stomach, but he tried to smile through it, nodding minutely in understanding. 

“I’m not sure we’re selling it as well as we could be,” Steve added, trying to explain himself. Bucky wished he wouldn’t. 

“Yeah, probably not,” he muttered in response. He glanced his mother’s exuberant smile and felt his stomach turn. “Come on. They’re waiting for us. We should go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments = love. And thanks for reading!


	8. Christmas Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinks follow dinner, and things escalate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... two days later than I had hoped.  
> Once again, I didn't edit this at all, because I really wanted to get it posted for you guys, but I'll read over it and try to fix any major mistakes. 
> 
> Real life has hit me like a ton of bricks. I can't lie - I've still been distracted with Harry Potter (lol) but there are other things too. My cat is really sick, and we're going to have to put her to sleep. :( I'm sad about it, but it'll also be a relief when it's over. It's been so hard to watch her suffer. I've also been working a bit more this week, and customer service really sucks the creative energy out of me. 
> 
> But here's chapter eight! Yay! Things get a bit more.. ahem.. heated in this chapter. I'm still QUITE new to writing anything of the smutty sense, so forgive me if it's totally weird. I think it's alright though! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Dinner was a huge, delicious affair of ham, potatoes, casserole, and dinner rolls. Bucky ate more than he should have, hardly able to heave himself out of the chair to move into the sitting room when it came time for the post-dinner tradition. Rather than having dessert, the Barnes family opted to drink after dinner each year, cozied up and chatting quietly over the crackling of the warm fire.

Bucky’s father kick-started the night by cracking open the wine that Steve had brought and dispersing glasses to everyone, even Rebecca, as they settled in. Bucky, Steve and Rebecca sat on the couch, the eldest Barnes sibling in the middle, while George and Winnie settled into a couple of armchairs.

Mostly they spent the evening reminiscing, telling stories and laughing over shared memories. When the wine ran out they moved onto hard cider and eggnog, aside from Becca, who’d only been allowed the one glass. Bucky enjoyed the light conversation, but his mind continued to wander back to earlier that day, and the feeling of Steve’s cold lips. It had seemed so real, and he wanted to believe that Steve reciprocated his feelings, at least a little bit, but he felt too unsure to say anything.

It didn’t help that Bucky had his head in Steve’s lap, trying to keep up appearances. He was a little more than tipsy, and he cold feel the warmth radiating off of his friend, nearly lulling him to sleep. To be honest, he half-wished that he was unconscious, the feeling of Steve’s strong thighs making it awfully difficult for him not to get too excited. Luckily, Steve was so deep in conversation with his parents that he didn’t take any notice of Bucky’s struggles. Becca, however, suddenly caught her brother’s eye, and made a vulgar gesture, a wicked grin stretching over her face.

Bucky nearly choked and gave his sister a good kick, effectively wiping the smile off of her face.

“James! Don’t kick your sister,” Winifred scolded.

Bucky pouted, turning his head to look at his mother, who sat nearest the fire. His eyes didn’t want to focus, but he spoke in her general direction. “She’s being mean to me, mom.”

“What, are you five?”

He gave his sister another kick and then rolled off the couch and stood up, not daring to give Rebecca the chance to fight back. “I’m going to go take a bath, I think,” he declared, and moved to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“Well, alright, dear,” she responded, squinting at her son in confusion. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

He gave his father a goodnight and his sister a glare before traipsing out of the room. He caught Steve’s eyes briefly but didn’t say anything and stumbled up the stairs.

Bucky still had half of his glass of eggnog, and he set it on the edge of the tub as he drew his bath. Under the sink he found a bottle of vanilla nutmeg bubble bath, which he proceeded to pour an obscene amount of, into the stream of running water, the sweet scent immediately engulfing the room.

As the tub filled with steaming water and heaps of bubbles, the brunet undressed himself and pulled his hair back, gazing idly at his reflection in the mirror. It was unusual that he looked at himself without a shirt, the sight causing him nothing but upset. However, with the alcohol in his system, he felt a bit braver, and he took a couple minutes to just look.

The scarring on his left arm was awful; thick, angry streaks of scar tissue, twisting up his arm and onto his shoulder like an infection. He could remember what it had felt like, the glass, metal and plastic, slicing deep into his skin and lacerating the muscles and nerves. It was one of the only things he could remember from the accident. Everything else was a blur of chaos and confusion. He hadn’t understood where he was, what was happening, and then he’d blacked out, finally coming to at the hospital, hours later, with Steve at his side.

He shook his head. It didn’t do to dwell on it, he knew. He couldn’t bear to drive a care now, and half the time he didn’t even like to ride as a passenger. Every time Steve or Sam walked out the door, car keys in hand, he wanted to stop them, grab them by the arm and pull them back inside, to safety. It had been almost five years since it had happened, but the worry hadn’t lessened, and he still hated the sight of his mottled skin.

Of course, his friends were always telling him that it was alright, nobody would judge him, but he still can’t bring himself to show his arm in public, or at home most of the time, for that matter. The pitiful looks he received, the skirted paths around him, the stares, they were all too much. No, he much preferred to keep it covered. If nobody could see it, it wasn’t there, right? He was normal, if nobody could see it. Bucky stepped away from the mirror, turning back to his bath. It was full now, so he shut off the water and slipped in, his lips parting in a soft sigh as the warm water soothed his aching body. Between the slip on the ice and the tumble he took while skiing, Bucky’s body was particularly sore and bruised.

He grabbed his drink and leaned back, sipping idly as he watched the mirror and small window fog in the warm room. It had started to snow outside, and a feeling of security settled over Bucky as he relaxed. He smiled to himself, lips curving over the rim of his glass, and he closed his eyes for a moment. This is what it was all about. This trip, every year, was about getting out of town, spending time with people he loves, and letting go of his worries. It was about rejuvenation, and he was at last finding clarity, all alone in this humid space. Still, he felt unsure of how to deal with his newfound feelings for his best friend, but he let them go for a moment, the feeling of solitude enveloping him and allowing him to finally let go.

Bucky set his glass back on the edge of the tub and fell still. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, but he thought of nothing while he did, meditating on basic thoughts of winter and vanilla bubbles. It wasn’t until the water grew cold that he opened his eyes again and tipped the rest of his drink back, knowing it was time to get out. As he stood, the alcohol rushed to his head, and he grabbed the towel rack on the wall, so as not to fall over. He didn’t drink often, not anymore, and he didn’t have the tolerance he used to.

Once he’d regained his balance, Bucky wrapped up in a plush, warm towel and exited the bathroom. The chill of the bedroom hit him, his skin prickling with goosebumps, and he stopped dead when he noticed Steve sitting on the bed, lying back against several pillows, sketching something on a large pad in his lap.

“Buck?” Steve looked up, his eyes widening slightly as he took in his friend’s mostly-naked appearance. The breath caught in Bucky’s chest, and he found that he couldn’t respond. All of his earlier feelings came rushing back, and the fog lifted in his head, leaving him buzzing with intoxicated energy.

Steve closed his sketch pad and set it aside, frowning at the brunet. “Are you okay?” he asked, moving as if to get off the bed and come towards him.

“I’m fine!” Bucky nearly squeaked, holding a hand up to stop Steve from getting up, the other gripping tightly onto his towel. He noticed that Steve’s gaze avoided his left arm, and he wanted to scream. “I just… I just need to get some clothes. Right, uh, yeah, I’ll grab those and get dressed.”

He burst into action, digging violently through his luggage as Steve watched, wordlessly. When he finally found his sweatpants and boxer briefs, he raced back into the bathroom and slammed the door. He hadn’t found a clean shirt, but it didn’t matter now. The damage had been done.

Bucky’s vision swam as he dressed, all the movement having upset his equilibrium. He wanted to cry. He’d been so relaxed, only moments ago, and now he was back to where he’d started. Why couldn’t he keep it together? Steve had been his best friend his entire life. Bucky had always felt safe and comfortable around him, and now he was screwing that up.

After pulling on his sweatpants, Bucky turned and stared at the bathroom door, feeling more unsure than he could remember every having felt before. The bathroom was beginning to cool, and the bare skin of his torso crawled with shivers, urging Bucky to go through the door and get into bed.

Finally he grit his teeth and pushed through the door, avoiding Steve’s gaze as he got into bed next to him. He clenched his jaw, not allowing his teeth to clack from the cold, like they so desperately wanted to, and stared resolutely at the ceiling. It probably looked like he was throwing some sort of fit, but he was at a loss of what to do. God, he was far too drunk for this.

A heavy silence lingered for a few minutes, and Bucky wondered if they were going to remain that way all night, the light still on, not daring to speak to one another. It was an uncomfortable feeling, something he wasn’t accustomed to experiencing with Steve.

“Bucky?”

The silence shattered and the brunet finally forced himself to look at his friend.

“What’s the matter?” Steve urged. His pretty, blue eyes were sad, the devastating lashes surrounding them casting shadows on his cheekbones in the dim lighting.  
“Did I do something?”

Bucky shook his head. None of this was Steve’s fault, and he felt bad for making the blond doubt himself. “Nah, Stevie… uh, it’s… uhm,” he paused, clearing his throat. “It’s nothing. I’m tired, ’s all.”

Steve gave him a nod but didn’t look convinced, his bright eyes boring deeply into his own. Bucky felt as if Steve were looking inside of him, gazing upon his soul and reading it like an open book. It was ludicrous to believe that he could keep anything from his best friend.

“I know you’re nervous,” Steve spoke, barely a whisper, “but you’re lying.”

Bucky didn’t respond, but instead got up to turn off the light. When he crawled back into bed, it was a minute or two before Steve spoke again, and he thought that perhaps the blond had given up.

“You don’t have to hide, Buck,” he said, of course seeing right through him. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s ugly.” His arm. It was a sensitive topic that Steve usually avoided, and Bucky was a little taken aback.

“It’s not,” Steve replied simply.

Bucky felt Steve’s huge, warm hand land on his left shoulder, and tears sprung to his eyes. He didn’t want Steve to touch him; didn’t want him to feel the rough and angry skin beneath his artist hands. Steve was beautiful, and Bucky didn’t feel worthy of the delicate gesture, and he craved to have a shirt on, skin tingling from the gentle caress of open air.

“Bucky,” Steve spoke again, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “C’mon, pal. Talk to me. You haven’t really been yourself for a couple of days, especially tonight. I’m freaking out over here.”

Bucky could barely make out Steve’s face in the dark, the noble line of his straight nose blurry in his teary, drunken vision. Even in the dark he was gorgeous, his sharp jaw like cut marble, his gentle voice soft and soothing.

“I’m worried I’ve done something.”

Bucky sighed, and the tears slipped out of his eyes, running hot down his cheeks. “I told you, Steve. It’s got nothin’ to do with you,” he sniffled.

Steve moved closer to him, and Bucky had to force himself not to react. “Then let me help,” the blond responded, his face near enough that Bucky could feel his warm breath on his cheeks.

“There’s nothing you can do.” Bucky turned his face away, staring at the slivered moonlight on the wall.

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice was firm, and his hand moved to cup his jaw, turning the brunet’s face back towards him. Even in the dim light, Bucky could see that Steve wanted to say something, his eyes working like clockwork, his mouth opening and closing slightly. At the last minute he seemed to change his mind with a minute shake of his head, and he swallowed heavily. “Tell me to stop.”

Bucky didn’t know what Steve meant, and he didn’t have much time to work it out. The blond dove in, his lips sealing over Bucky’s, and the brunet felt more tears slip out of his eyes, a shiver wracking his body.

There was nobody around. There wasn’t anyone to witness the way Steve was kissing him now, and for a moment Bucky could believe that Steve really felt the same way that he did. He knew that couldn’t be the case though. Steve had been drinking at least as much as he had been… yes, this was a side effect of the alcohol. It had to be. In the back of his head, Bucky knew he should stop his friend. Steve would regret this in the morning. He couldn’t bring himself to do it though, and it was selfish. He wanted this too badly, and if he could have it for one night, he would take it.

Steve pulled away for a split second, and a small whimper escaped between Bucky’s parted lips, drawing Steve back in with more fervor. The blond hummed and bit Bucky’s lip gently, and the shorter boy opened up to him, allowing him to lick into his mouth. There was no battle for dominance; Bucky gave in easily, letting Steve push him down to the bed, his heavy body a warm weight above him, slotting between his legs.

Bucky was embarrassed to already find himself hard and wanting, but as Steve settled on top of him he could feel that his friend was in the same boat, and he relaxed, allowing the blond to take the lead. If Steve was going to regret it, the least Bucky could do is not force him into anything. Then they’d both only feel worse. Now, Bucky was going to completely allow Steve to take the reigns with this. Perhaps it would be enough to salvage their friendship.

Steve tore away from Bucky’s mouth with a soft growl, and Bucky tipped his head back, baring his neck with a throaty groan. At the sight the blond tipped his hips down, and both boys hissed at the sensation. They rocked against each other like teenagers, hiding away in the dark, slaves to sensation, no ability to control their desperate bodies.

When Steve bit down on the juncture between Bucky’s neck and shoulder, the brunet nearly came in his pants. It’d been a long time since Bucky’d been with anyone, and the feeling of another human was nearly overwhelming, not to mention that the human happened to be his best friend. Bucky couldn’t lie, the dominance that Steve was showing was a definite turn on, and the feeling of his teeth digging into delicate skin sparked fireworks in his body, lighting his nerves with sensation.

“S-Steve,” he stuttered out, eyes fluttering closed.

“Shhh,” Steve hushed, drawing back, hips rocking a bit harder. “Buck…”

“Steve.”

Their eyes met, dilated pupils glinting in the dark, and Bucky clung to Steve’s bare back, his fingertips slipping as they searched for purchase on the sweat-dampened skin. Even in the freezing room he felt too hot, heat rising in his body like a fire, burning him from the inside out, yet he still wanted to pull Steve closer and feel more of that warmth. His toes tingled, curling in as he drew closer to the edge, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down harshly on the flesh.

“I’m gonna… _God_ , Buck, I’m gonna…” Steve groaned, hips stuttering.

Bucky heard himself whine in response, and couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed at the desperateness of the noise. “It’s okay, Stevie, c’mon,” he panted, sliding a hand up to run it through Steve’s soft, messy hair. “Me too.. I…I, yes, Steve. _Come on_.”

Steve silenced him, leaning down to capture Bucky’s lips again as he brought them over the edge. White light flooded Bucky’s vision, and he felt every nerve ending in his body flare with the intense feeling of ecstasy. He clung to Steve through it, helping to ground him as he came back down.

When they finally pulled apart, Bucky felt ready to pass out. Steve seemed to have similar thoughts, and he rolled off of the brunet, still drawing heavy breaths. Bucky wanted to complain at the loss of warmth, but he didn’t have to. Steve’s arm circled his waist and pulled him back to his chest, where he curled around him, enveloping Bucky in his warmth once more. As Steve hummed contentedly, Bucky smiled and snuggled into his friend. Now that he was settling into the aftermath, he was a little devastated. He knew with the morning light would come tension and regret, but he was still happy, and he focused on carefully devoting the night to his memory, not wanting to forget a single detail. He felt loved, and warm and protected, and if this was the only night he got to share his feelings with Steve, then he wasn’t going to waste it.

“Goodnight, Steve,” he whispered quietly, receiving no response. The blond was already asleep. Bucky sighed and closed his eyes. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo? Thoughts? I'd really love to hear them, and I'll be back with an update for you all in the next couple of days. The story should still be finished by the end of the month, just in time for the new year. Thank you all again for reading! <3 <3


	9. If You'll Have Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Eve arrives, and walls come down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. Thank you, thank you, thank you SO MUCH, everyone. I'm sorry I didn't reply to those of you that commented on my update, but I was afraid they'd get deleted or something before you saw them. Not entirely sure how that works. Every comment meant the world to me though! It really, really did. It helped a ton to have you guys at my back, and it took me a few days, but I finally finished this chapter. My creativity is finally seeping back, and I'm going to look at kittens in the morning. Yay!
> 
> I'm sorry if there are major typos in this chapter, but you've all been so patient, and I just couldn't wait to post it. Happy reading!

The first thing Steve noticed when he woke up was that he couldn’t move his arm. It was still dark out, only the light of the moon illuminating the room, casting shadows along the walls. His fingers tingled, a sort of white noise feeling, and he felt warmer than usual, the right side of his body damp from a light sweat.

Once his eyes had adjusted, Steve tilted his head down to be met with a mouthful of dark brown hair, most of which was sprawled across his chest. His left hand, which was still fully mobile, reached up to pull the hair out of his mouth, and the blond smiled to himself. Though he was uncomfortable, Steve couldn’t bring himself to move Bucky, not wanting to wake him from whatever dream had his nose twitching adorably.

Just as the blond was about to drift into sleep again, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. Who on earth would be trying to contact him so early in the day, he had no idea, but figured it was all the more reason to check it, just in case it was an emergency. Reaching to grab it without disturbing Bucky proved difficult, but lucky for Steve, the brunet could sleep through damn near anything, and he managed to pull it off.

The message turned out to be from Sam, and it wasn’t an emergency at all.

          Sam: _Are you 2 dead?_

Steve rolled his eyes. The time on his phone read 5:37, making it just past seven thirty in New York. It was much later than he’d originally thought, and considered briefly whether he should bother going back to sleep at all.

          Steve: _Not dead._

It only took Sam a few seconds to respond, and Steve had to hold back a laugh.

          Sam: _Oh I see. U lovebirds r too wrapped up in each other to bother letting your friends know that ur ok._

          Steve: _You could’ve called!_

          Sam: _Not the point, man._

Steve tossed his phone somewhere on the bed. Sam could wait until later in the day to talk to Steve. Sam’s words were innocent enough, but the title of ‘lovebirds’ had him flushing, blood running hot throughout him. He could feel the dark of the room pressing down on him, as if judging, and he silently told it to shut up.

He didn’t know what to make of the previous night. It was a tiny bit foggy, due to the alcohol that had been coursing through his blood, but for the most part it was crystal clear. Of course he was ecstatic about it. He’d been quietly wanting his best friend for a while now, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. What would happen when Bucky woke up? Would he be repulsed? Would he and Steve’s friendship be ruined. Would he even remember it at all?

Stupidly, Steve thought that the latter might be the worst outcome.

What the two needed to do was sit down and have a nice, long talk. Both of them had been bottling things up, that much was obvious, and until everything was out in the open, Steve was going to go crazy.

The blond sighed and ran a hand over Bucky’s long hair, tugging a couple of knots out, causing the shorter man to stir. He pulled back immediately, not ready to face his friend quite yet, and let Bucky settle once more. Steve closed his eyes and let his own breathing even out, deciding that he probably did need a little more sleep, and within minutes he was asleep once more, the warm weight of Bucky soothing him like a favorite blanket.

 

The next time Steve blinked tired eyes open, the bed was empty, and he wished he’d never woken up.

It took him a second to figure out what had woken him so suddenly, and then he noticed Bucky standing in the bathroom doorway, staring at him wide-eyed, like he were some sort of creature he’d never seen the likes of before. He was still shirtless, but he’d changed his pants, probably for the same sticky reason that Steve needed to, and the scars webbing his left arm reminded Steve of vines in the soft morning light. Now that he could actually see him, Steve was reminded of how truly beautiful his best friend was. It’d been a long time since he’d seen him in such a way, as the brunet constantly remained covered by the protection of long sleeves.

“Buck,” he began, flipping the covers back to get out of bed, but immediately stopped at the look on Bucky’s face as he took a step back, as if frightened.

“Uh,” the brunet cleared his throat, eyes darting about in search of his best escape route, leaving a hollow feeling in Steve’s chest. “I’m… I’m just going to, uh… go downstairs.”

Steve watched Bucky stride across the room and out the bedroom door. He knew the brunet had to be really upset, since he hadn’t even bothered to get dressed first, and the blond ran a heavy hand down his face in frustration, knowing it was going to be a really long day.

 

***

 

The days following Christmas were horrifically uncomfortable. For five days Bucky avoided Steve like a plague. Of course, once or twice, they had to at least show a little PDA, for the sake of their mission, but every time Bucky gripped his hand or left a delicate touch on his shoulder, it made Steve’s stomach turn. There had never been so much tension between them, and it wasn’t a feeling he wanted to get used to.

Nothing, however, was as bad as New Year’s Eve. From the time they woke up to the time the sun set in bloody hues of red, Bucky wouldn’t even look at Steve. Every time the blond tried to talk to him, he’d mumble quiet, dismissive responses and turn further from him, pulling the tension between them even more taut. At the start of the day, Steve had felt hopeless and more than ready to go home, but as the day wore on, he grew more and more determined to cut that tight cord between them and _do something_. They couldn’t return home in this state. Their relationship _had_ to be mended.

At dinner that night, Steve couldn’t keep the frustration off of his face. His fists were clenched, jaw tight, and he barely spoke at all. At this point it felt like there was a brick wall between he and his best friend, that Bucky had personally built, and Steve was about to take a sledgehammer to it. He was trying his best not to cause a scene.

The two of them received their share of strange looks from the rest of the family, though neither of them seemed to notice, too caught up in their own little worlds. The plan was to head to the Mountain Village Plaza after dinner, to watch ski school employees weave down the hills with blazing red torchlights, followed by fireworks, and the countdown to the New Year at the courthouse. Ordinarily, Steve would be excited. He loved celebrating the New Year. It was a time to look back on the good and the bad of the previous year, and prepare for change and renewed hope and excitement. Unless things swiftly did a 180, however, he wasn’t so sure he’d enjoy the night. He wanted to. It was a crazy beautiful location to be, and he was intrigued to see the annual traditions that the town had, but his focus was just… elsewhere.

After dinner they bundled up and prepared to head out. They needed to be to the plaza by 6:30 to see the parade and fireworks. At this point Steve decided he was going to have a good time, and if Bucky wanted to ruin the night for himself, that was fine. Steve wasn’t going to feel any guilt. Nope. None at all.

Okay, that was maybe a lie he was telling himself.

The night was bitter cold, but a warmth settled over the plaza, packed with people, hot breath creating thousands of little white clouds, drifting hazy over the crowd. The family had gotten a pretty good spot, and when the torchlight parade began, Steve let Becca climb onto his back to see better. He had to admit, watching the skiers blaze down the mountain in a red trail of zigzags was way cooler than he’d imagined, and despite the painfully long day, he felt a wide smile tug on his lips.

When the fireworks began to go off, Becca clapped and cheered excitedly, making Steve laugh, her joy contagious. Even Bucky had broken into a grin, glancing up at his sister now and again, fondness lighting his pale eyes. The two of them fought constantly, but Steve knew that Rebecca meant the world to her brother, and when all else failed, she would be the one to lift his spirits.

After the fireworks ended, Becca slid off of his back and the group went to a restaurant for dessert, just to kill time before the went to the courthouse for midnight. They talked and laughed over drinks and cake, and Steve was beyond happy to see Bucky loosen up a little, and he even caught his eyes a couple of times, the grey-blue depths lighting with their usual sparkle. Perhaps things would right themselves after all.

 

***

 

Bucky felt horrible. He knew he was hurting Steve. He’d barely spoken to his friend since Christmas, but he was mortified by his behavior from that night.

The morning after Christmas had been one of his worst. It’d been nice, first waking up, to be wrapped around Steve’s warm, solid form, but when the memories came flooding back a pit had opened in his stomach, and he’d gotten out of the bed as quickly as possible. The last thing he had wanted was for Steve to wake up and be uncomfortable. Though he had to admit, the way he went about it hadn’t been much better.

Steve was his best friend, and he knew he’d forgive Bucky, but that didn’t stop the brunet’s embarrassment from nearly suffocating him during the days that followed. Between the dreams that were plaguing him and the way his body wanted to react just being in Steve’s _presence_ … he could hardly control himself. And things weren’t getting easier.

Today it had risen to an all new high. He’d dug himself a hole, and each day it grew deeper. Now he couldn’t escape, and he couldn’t even look at the blond without feeling a crash of emotions too forceful to handle. The fireworks had helped, the familiarity of something he was accustomed to watching every year doing wonders to ease him in a world of doubt. He was nervous for midnight, knowing he and Steve would have to put on a show for the family, but he was trying to cherish the sense of normalcy while it lasted.

That was why he lodged a snowball at Steve’s head, as hard as he could, as they left the restaurant.

“Hey!” Steve laughed, his cheek red where the ball of snow had hit him. Bucky had always thought the way Steve’s pale skin flushed so easily was pretty.

Bucky chortled and ducked the ball that was thrown at him in retaliation, turning unknowingly into one that his sister had thrown. It hit him right on his nose, stinging and splattering his face in it’s wet, iciness.

A full blown snowball fight ensued in the street then, and Bucky felt that it was unfair, as his sister had clearly sided with Steve. After a rather vicious attack, he recruited two boys, who looked to be about the ages of ten or eleven, yet still they were no match for Rebecca and Steve. Bucky knew, first hand, that nobody defeated Becca in a snowball fight, and after the third snowball to the face, one of the boys took off, giggling and wishing him luck, his friend following close behind him, and they ran back to their parents.

“Cowards!” Bucky called after them, and the whole lot gave him a friendly laugh. At least _they_ seemed amused.

When he became too cold, Bucky rose his metaphorical white flag and surrendered, allowing his sister to keep her crown as champion.

“We could’ve taken her, if you would’ve been on my side,” Bucky murmured, giving Steve an unimpressed look.

“You attacked me first!” Steve exclaimed, tossing his hands in the air. “Why would I have been on your team?”

Bucky shrugged, and they made their way back over to his parents, who were still standing outside of the restaurant, shaking their heads. He didn’t miss the way Steve looked so relaxed, more so than he had in days, and Bucky felt guilt wash over him once more.

The group meandered to the courthouse then. It was nearly 11:00, as they had spent a ridiculous amount of time in the restaurant, taking in the warm, excited atmosphere and good food. The temperature had dropped, and even through several layers of sweaters and a thick winter coat, the cold still nipped harshly at Bucky’s skin. Once they found a good spot to stand, he wrapped his arms around himself and stuck his hands in his armpits, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

The first forty minutes passed slowly. During the time, Steve and Bucky received ‘Happy New Year!’ texts from their friends, who had already finished celebrating, as they were two hours ahead. Every year Bucky felt a little twinge of sadness at not being there to see the ball drop with his friends, but nothing beat being with his family in this small town. He preferred the authenticity of the excitement and festivities in Telluride to the wild crowds of New York City. Plus, he generally went to bed shortly after, being an old man at heart, and it was difficult to get away with such a thing in the City that Never Sleeps.

When they reached the final ten minutes of the year, team began to exponentially speed up, rocketing towards the end that was just in sight. Bucky rubbed his hands together, both from cold and anticipation. At five minutes, he gave up on clenching his teeth together, and he let them clack. Three minutes, and tremors were running across his shoulders and down his spine, and he went back to hugging himself, trying to control it. At two minutes he cursed under his breath and moved an inch closer to Steve hoping to capture even the smallest bit of the blond’s constant warmth.

At one minute, Steve slid an arm around his waist and pulled him to his side.

Bucky wanted so badly to fight it, but he was too tired, and the warmth was too good. Instead, he sunk into his friend, shivering and sniffling, not daring to look. He couldn’t bear to see Steve’s face so close. He could already feel his control slipping at the physical contact, and this was not the moment to have a melt down. He had to make it one more minute at least, and then he could play it off as acting. Not even a minute now, thirty seconds…

“Buck.”

Bucky jumped at Steve’s low voice, and swallowed around the sudden desire in his throat. “Hmm.”

Steve chuckled and moved, placing a large hand at Bucky’s jaw, pulling slightly to get the brunet to look at him. There was a subtle warmth in his blue eyes, a reflection of his gentle soul, and a small smile was twisting the corners of his mouth, the muscles twitching as he tried to hide it. Bucky felt dazed, lost in blue pools, and the countdown began.

_“10!”_

“Steve, I’m sorry.”

A confused stare.

_“9!”_

“What are you sorry for?”

_“8!”_

“Everything.”

_“7!”_

“Christmas,” he added, clarifying.

_“6!”_

A genuine smile, huge and bright, for the first time in days.

_“5!”_

“Don’t be sorry, Bucky.”

_“4!”_

“But…”

_“3!”_

“Just shut up.”

_“2!”_

“Steve…”

_“1!”_

“You’re so stupid.”

Bucky couldn’t respond before Steve pulled him tight to his chest, claiming his lips in a way he hadn’t before. The drunken lust of Christmas night had felt like passion, but this couldn’t be confused. It was passionate, and the walls he’d spent five days building up came crumbling, ruined as delicately as tissue paper in a shredder, and it ended before it had even truly begun.

When Steve pulled back, Bucky could feel that his eyes were huge and round, and undoubtedly black with longing. “Steve, I meant what I said. I really am sorry, and I didn’t mean to make things weird between us. Nat and I had this talk before we left, and it had me thinking… but I wasn’t going to act on it! I couldn’t help it. I drank too much that night, and you know how I get… I can’t…”

“Bucky,” Steve held up a hand to stop him, the other still resting at his waist. “I told you to shut up. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Bucky’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, and Steve drew him into a second kiss, this one more gentle, but no less passionate. He nipped gently at the brunet’s pouted bottom lip, smile still gracing his perfect face, and spoke in between kisses. “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes…” a soft press of lips “I think I always have…” a sharp nip, a wonderful sting “I want you so bad…” a swipe of tongue, soothing the sting “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Steve pulled back completely, his eyes hooded and dark, an expression on his face that Bucky had never seen before, and stared at his slack-jawed best friend for a moment, before leaning down to whisper in his ear. “And if you’ll have me, I’m all yours.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Images of the Telluride Torchlight Parade... because it's wicked awesome. :D

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, Kudos, Critique... etc! I'd love to hear thoughts. You've all been really, really great. We will get resolution in the next chapter, and then we'll be all done! It was short, but it's been really fun, and I hope you guys have had fun as well. :)  
> XXX
> 
>  
> 
> PS. The rating MAY change in the final chapter, but I'm a little vanilla when it comes to writing the sexy times, so maybe not! I'll decide when I write it. I never know what my fingers are going to do :)


	10. Smile-Sore Cheeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally give in to their feelings for one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. 
> 
> Ohm y g o d
> 
> I'm so tired.
> 
> BUT! Today marked two weeks since my last update, and I told myself that I could not, under any circumstance, go to bed until I finished this chapter. So here it is! And I am a complete and total blushing virgin when it comes to writing smut, yet somehow this ended up being my longest chapter... seriously I'm not sure I've ever written anything quite like this. I've written a bit of smut, but it wasn't anything like this. 
> 
> I hope it's not boring. 
> 
> Please enjoy. :)

Steve’s words echoed in Bucky’s head for the entirety of the fireworks show. They echoed in his head all the way back home. He hadn’t been able to respond, the cogs in his head drawing to a complete halt at Steve's admission. However, he had found it damn near impossible to keep his lips and hands to himself, and now that they were back in the safety of their cold bedroom, he wasn’t even going to try.

The second the door snapped shut, Steve had Bucky backed against the wall, hands planted at either side of his head, trapping him. His lips were harsh against his, Steve’s teeth nipping at Bucky’s plush lips, small growls escaping the blond’s throat.

Bucky was still in shock, but he kissed back with everything he had, weaving hands into Steve’s hair. It was already mussed from the hat he’d been wearing, which Bucky had promptly discarded. The gold strands were soft between his fingers, slipping between them like silk threads.

The room was dark, only the soft light of the moon illuminating their surroundings. When Steve discarded his shirt, his skin looked soft and pale in the light, an expanse of porcelain flesh, and Bucky found himself enraptured with the sight. Even the feeling of Steve’s fingers slowly crawling under his shirt and over his lower abdomen couldn’t distract him. It was Steve’s voice in his ear that finally did it.

“Are you okay?”

His voice was gentle, but deep and full of gravel, and it ghosted over Bucky’s ear, causing him to shudder. Bucky couldn’t make his voice work, but gave a short nod, and let Steve pull his own shirt over his head.

Deep down he felt embarrassed, particularly with the way Steve stared down at him, but he swallowed the feeling and ignored it. He didn’t want to mess this up. It was quite possibly the best thing that would ever happen to him.

Steve let out a sigh and drew him back in, his kisses turning gentle and deep, warming Bucky to his core. The blond’s hands at his waist pulled him gently, turning him as they went, until he was being pressed onto the bed, his legs giving out as the back of his knees hit the edge. Steve followed, crawling over him, lips never ceasing in their soft dance.

After an eternity Steve pulled back, eyes hooded and black. Even in the dim lighting, Bucky could make out the cherry-red of his lips, slightly kiss-swollen and parted, pants of breath moving between them. Bucky felt himself smile lopsidedly at the sight, his chest heaving to try and catch his breath.

“Hey, Stevie,” he whispered, followed by a short, disbelieving laugh.

“Hey,” Steve murmured back.

His face mirrored Bucky’s with an awe-struck smile of his own, and he began to crawl backwards, down his body, never breaking eye contact. Bucky felt his breath hitch when the blond undid the button of his jeans and slid the tips of his curled fingers under the waistband.

Steve drew a lip between his teeth, looking thoughtful for a moment, hesitant, and then said, “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Bucky wanted to assure Steve that there was no way he’d ask him to stop, but he nodded, knowing Steve was serious. Steve was always looking after others before himself, and if he wasn’t sure that Bucky was consenting, he’d bring everything to a swift and absolute halt. Bucky couldn’t have that, so he gave him a soft, “I will.”

Steve continued looking up at him through thick eyelashes for a moment, and then nodded, turning his attention back to his fingers. He slid off of the edge of the bed and stood, teasing at Bucky’s waist band, tugging gently, making the brunet squirm. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other naked before - they had, hundreds of times, but never in this context, and Bucky felt unnecessarily nervous. He could feel the blood pumping heavily through his veins. His hands felt numb. “Steve,” Bucky whined, urging him to hurry it up.

Steve laughed softly, hooded eyes flicking up briefly to look at Bucky. “Patience, Buck.”

“You’re making me crazy.”

“That’s kind of the point,” he said, and finally pulled his pants off, along with his underwear, in one quick tug.

Bucky let out a laugh of his own. "Well that was anticlimactic."

“I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to get it over with,” Steve teased back, letting soft fingers trail down Bucky’s legs, towards his feet. “Can I make it up to you?”

Bucky did his best to tilt his head in confusion, and Steve’s fingers slid under the top of a thick sock, giving it a treatment similar to his pants. He slid the article of clothing slowly past Bucky’s ankle and off of his foot, a coy expression playing across his face the whole time. Bucky wanted to giggle, a hysterical feeling pulsing in his chest, but he couldn’t, too surprisingly turned on by the soft, warm feeling of Steve’s fingers at his ankle, a thumb pressing at his Achilles. He swallowed, his pulse jumping in his throat, and his mouth suddenly felt dry and tacky.

By the time Steve got his other sock off, Bucky felt like a puddle of goo, words caught in his throat. He couldn’t even cringe at the feeling of Steve’s dark eyes scanning over his entire body, taking their time in the journey up to his face. He still held one of Bucky’s feet in his hands, massaging gently, kneading absentmindedly. Steve didn’t miss a single bit as his eyes drank greedily, from the fine hair on Bucky's thighs to the freckles on his shoulders. It was the same careful gaze that Steve had when he was drawing, not allowing himself to miss out on any details.

Finally his eyes reached Bucky’s own, and he let out a soft hum, releasing his foot. “You’re gorgeous, Buck.”

Bucky felt himself flush and chose not to respond, instead trying to turn the attention to the blond. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he spoke, words coming out low and thick.

Steve glanced down at himself and slowly began to undo his belt, but Bucky moved to sit on his knees at the edge of the bed, putting a hand over Steve’s to stop him. “Let me.”

Steve had a flush of his own, traveling from his hairline and spreading down across his face, bleeding onto his chest. Bucky loved Steve’s full-body blush, his porcelain skin pinking to a pretty rose color, hot to the touch. Bucky made quick work of the belt buckle, but he pulled the belt out of the pants as slowly as possible, knowing full well that it was unnecessary, but wanting to give Steve the same treatment that he’d received. He held Steve’s heated gaze as he did it, chewing on his bottom lip and batting his lashes playfully, teasing.

At the sound of the belt hitting the ground, Steve let out a shaky breath he’d been holding, and Bucky repressed a smile, moving his itching fingers to the button and zipper of the jeans. He wasn’t as slow when it came to relieving Steve of his pants and underwear, too impatient and nervous to control himself. Steve toed out of his socks and stepped out of the pile of clothing, finally, gloriously, naked as the day he was born.

Bucky drank in the sight, running trembling fingers over the ridges of adonis lines, Steve’s navel, a soft trail of dark blond hair… and found he couldn’t breath. Couldn’t swallow. He couldn’t do much of anything, other than touch, look, and pray that he didn’t do anything to screw this up.

A glance up at Steve’s face helped Bucky to find his voice again, not liking the unsure expression splayed across his best friend’s face. “Hey,” he whispered, pausing his hands at Steve’s hips, “are you okay?”

He received a small nod in affirmation. “It’s just…” Steve broke off, eyes trailing away. "It’s… been a while.”

Bucky wanted to laugh. “Stevie, hey,” he said instead, drawing the blond’s attention back to him, “It’s not like I’m in a different boat.”

“I know, but I haven’t been with… a-a man since… god, it must’ve been high school.”

The brunet smiled, shaking his head. “Shhh,” he hushed Steve and moved a hand to wrap brave fingers around Steve’s hardened dick, not daring to break eye contact. The warm, heavy weight in his hand was a welcomed familiarity, in the midst of such a strange situation. This was something Bucky could handle, quite literally.

Bucky sucked his bottom lip between his teeth once more, and let his hand slide loosely up and down, a slow rhythm, watching Steve’s eyes glaze over. It left Bucky feeling high, drunk on the power he had, to make the most important person in his world feel good. Steve’s pulse thrummed under his fingers, and he felt a hot bead of pre-come under his thumb as he ran it over the tip, smearing it down to make the slide smoother.

Aside from Steve’s shaky breaths, and the soft, slick sounds of his hand, the room was dead silent, pressing in on Bucky’s ears. It left his senses feeling heightened, and he hadn’t been lying when he told Steve it’d been a while for him. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure that he couldn’t get off just like this, untouched and high on the feeling of submitting himself to the man that stood over him.

Bucky felt a breath catch in his chest and he tightened his fist, squirming as he tried to suppress the urge to touch himself, biting harder on his lip, a tang of copper bursting sharply to life on his tongue. He whined softly and dug his nails into Steve’s flesh, where his other hand still rested on a hip. The blond growled at the feeling and suddenly pushed at Bucky’s chest.

The brunet lost his grip in both hands and sprawled back onto the bed, his chest suddenly heaving with shallow breaths. The cold of the room hit him, and he felt goosebumps rise on his arms. Thankfully, Steve wasted little time in blanketing Bucky’s body with his own, and he was warmer than Bucky could remember him having ever been before. Steve’s skin radiated heat like a furnace, and he attacked the shorter man with hungry kisses.

Bucky allowed his legs to fall open, and Steve settled between them, rolling their hips together in a slow, controlled rhythm. The blond let out a sound akin to a purr between kisses. Bucky slid his hands up Steve’s back and clung to broad shoulders, knuckles white where skin pulled taught over tense muscle and bone. Bucky thought hazily of the last time they’d been in a similar position and marveled at how much better it was without the rough barrier of clothing, hot skin pressing together, soft and slippery.

Bucky pulled away, breaking the kiss, and moaned when Steve took the opportunity to move his attention to his jaw and throat, trailing hot, wet, open-mouthed presses of his mouth. He tipped his head back, allowing the other man easier access, and tried to find his words. He needed more.

“Steve,” he breathed, toes curling as Steve gave a particularly hard roll of his hips. “S-steve, uhhnn…” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut, and moved a hand up to Steve’s hair. He gave the silk-soft strands a hard tug, a shaky breath rattling in his lungs.

Steve paused and looked up at Bucky with black eyes, cherry red lips parted and swollen, and tilted his head in question.

“Fuck me.”

Steve’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes shot open wide. He looked as if he’d stopped breathing, and Bucky quickly began to regret his harsh words, despite the heavy, lustful fog in his head.

“I mean, Steve…”

Steve shook his head and began to back up, crawling away from Bucky and to the edge of the bed, and Bucky’s stomach sank, his eyes drifting to stare at a corner of the bed, embarrassed. He just knew he’d screw it up somehow.

“Are you sure?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Steve. He was standing now, moonlight dancing off of the curves and edges of his body. His brows were drawn together, and Bucky knew this had become serious. Steve needed reassurance.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been so sure of anything.”

Steve swallowed, the light accenting the nervous bob of his adam’s apple, and nodded. “Do you… uh, do you have any. Well, you know, any…?”

Bucky bit down on his smile at Steve’s sudden discomfort, when only moments ago he’d been growling in the brunet’s ears. “Under the sink.”

Steve turned and walked into the bathroom. Bucky bit his lip at the sight of his perfect, pert ass and huge shoulders. There was briefly a sound of him rifling around in the cabinet, in search of the supplies that they’d need, and when he returned with a small, clear bottle of lube in his hand, Bucky felt the temperature in the room rise even higher. He could feel a trickle of sweat run from the nape of his neck and down his spine as he propped up on his elbows and reached out for the bottle, causing him to shudder.

“What about a condom?”

Bucky cursed internally. Of course there weren’t any condoms in the bathroom. He only ever came here for family vacations, and it wasn’t as if he was going to seduce somebody into staying the night with him while on a family holiday. The scandal of it would be unbearable. In all honesty, Bucky wasn’t completely sure he’d be able to look his mother in the eyes for the remainder of the trip, after tonight, knowing she was only a couple doors down.

“Shit,” he muttered out loud. “Sorry, I forgot. Uh…” he paused in thought. He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure if it would be pushing things too far. “Uh, well, I had a physical a couple months ago, and I’m clean. I don’t know if maybe… I mean, we could…”

Steve interrupted. “Me too,” he said quickly, turning even more red, if at all possible, “I-I mean… would that be okay?”

Bucky did laugh at that, a short, bright sound. “Unless you’d rather go ask my parents if they have one.”

Steve appeared sick at just the idea of having to do that, and the two burst into laughter, giggling uncontrollably like a couple of teenagers. The tension lifted, and suddenly everything felt wonderful and care-free, light and joyful.

Steve settled first and finally tossed the bottle at Bucky, sobering him quickly. The brunet grabbed it and blinked up at his best friend. This was really happening now, and it felt as if time had slowed, nearly stopped. Not even the sound of breathing could be heard, the sudden silence echoing brightly, leaving Bucky’s ears ringing.

How had it taken him this long to realize his feelings? As he gazed at Steve in the dim room, he had surprisingly artistic thoughts of his own and wondered if that was how Steve saw the world; the way Bucky saw him. Not only was the blond moral and passionate, headstrong and, admittedly, a total punk, but he was carved-from-stone beautiful. He was an adonis amongst meager humans, all powerful, straight lines and marble-cut edges. He was a piece of art.

Bucky drew himself out of his wandering thoughts and clicked open the cap of the bottle with a thumb. The sound pulled Steve out of his own haze, and he watched with a hawk-like gaze as Bucky drizzled a generous amount over his own fingers. The liquid was warm and silky on his fingertips, adding to the flames of Bucky’s personal fire, and he slowly moved his hand down his body, Steve’s heated gaze following the action, until it finally reached his destination.

“Bucky.”

The brunet smiled softly, teasing himself as he drew lazy circles around his entrance, drawing nearer with each one. “Hmm?”

Steve was still staring at the hand between his legs, but he’d moved to his hands and knees at the edge of the bed, leaning forward, as if gravitating towards the shorter man, unable to help himself. He seemed to be in a trance. “You’re completely sure?” he asked, voice full of awe, rather than concern.

“Absolutely.” Bucky’s voice hitched on the word as he slid a finger inside himself. It wasn’t his first rodeo, but it had been quite a while, and the intrusion stung, though not enough to deter him.

Any of the blue of Steve’s eyes that had been left was gone, and he watched with rapt attention, small pants escaping his parted lips. Bucky was shocked to find himself undisturbed by Steve’s intense stare. He was as comfortable as ever. In fact, he hadn’t even thought about his arm once, which was a huge deal, and a gigantic step forward, for him. He’d never felt so at ease with any of his past lovers, and he grinned, wide and blissful, feeling happier than he had in years. His heart was soaring.

Steve’s low moan pulled him back to the present, to find Steve hovering over him, face only inches away, looking down at where Bucky’s hand was still slowly working. The blond was holding himself carefully, so as not to disturb him, and Bucky released a choked sound, a new wave of lust crashing over him, heightening his senses. He felt every place they touched like a jolt of electricity; a small brush of thighs, Steve’s bated breath on his cheek, a fingertip brushing his shoulder, toes touching toes. He thought it was only moments before he’d explode.

“Steve,” he whined, almost embarrassed at how needy he sounded, but too far gone to care. “S-Steve, please.”

Another rumbling growl came from Steve’s chest, and Bucky’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Too lost to raw feeling, he didn’t notice Steve’s hand moving from where it rested next to his head, to reach down between their bodies, until he felt a second, larger finger sliding in alongside his own.

Bucky cried out, overwhelmed, and pulled his own hand away. Steve wasted no time in taking over, replacing Bucky’s finger with another of his own, scissoring slowly to open him up. His gaze was erotic, watching Bucky squirm through a curtain of thick eyelashes. The brunet was finding himself shocked and pleased with this side of Steve. When it came down to it, the nervousness melted away, revealing a confident, sexual being, completely sure and in control.

When Bucky began to beg for more, Steve added a third finger, and searched desperately until he found his prostate. The soft touch against the gland made tears spring to Bucky’s eyes, and he writhed, digging white fingertips into the bedding beneath him. He was being noisy, panting and moaning, but Bucky was deaf to it, no longer in control, as white static filled his ears and frustration tugged on his nerves. He arched his back, pressing his chest to Steve’s, a long, low noise sounding through clenched teeth.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed and pressed back against him, the fingers of his free hand weaving into the brunet’s hair. “Jesus, Buck, you’re gonna kill me.”

“Steve,” Bucky groaned, voice nearly unrecognizable. “Please, God, I’m ready. I need you.”

Steve cursed under his breath and withdrew his hand, bringing it back up to join the other, cradling Bucky’s head. “You still positive you want to do this?”

Bucky swallowed and nodded, trying to catch his breath. He stared deeply into Steve’s familiar eyes and felt safe. He felt wanted, and he couldn’t imagine feeling such a way with anyone else. Steve was his best friend, and the two had done nearly everything together, and now this was it, the final puzzle piece. He wanted to be consumed by him and step over this final boundary between them. It was the only way he could possibly get closer to the blond, and it was a feeling he was itching to experience. “Make love to me, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes softened. He ran a gentle thumb along Bucky’s jaw, lashes casting dark shadows on his cheekbones, and a corner of his mouth lifted. “Okay,” he whispered.

Bucky held his breath as the blond trailed soft kisses over his cheeks, slow and careful. Steve’s hands remained buried in his hair, deft fingertips massaging his scalp. Bucky’s fingers played idly at Steve’s ribs, running left and right, up and down, feeling every ridge and muscle.

Eventually Steve pulled back, looking down with kind eyes again. “Do you want to turn over, or…?”

“No,” Bucky tried to say, though it only came out as a soft breath. He shook his head and swallowed to try again. “I want to see you.”

“Can I turn on the lamp?”

Initially, Bucky wanted to say no, but he gave it a second thought. As badly as he wanted the cover of night, masking his imperfections and quaking nerves, he also desperately wanted to be able to see Steve. Aside from his immediate family, nobody had been in Bucky’s life longer, and it didn’t do their relationship justice to mask it in the dark.

“Yes.”

Steve reached over, straining slightly, muscles jumping in his shoulders, and flicked on the bedside lamp. It wasn’t bright, only casted a soft, warm glow over them, and Bucky thought it was perfect, mentally claiming it as his new favorite item in the house.

When Steve had settled back he broke into a wide smile and murmured a small, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Bucky whispered, squeezing the ribs under his fingers.

The two were quiet for a moment, adjusting to the sight of one another in the new lighting. Bucky found Steve’s features softened in the yellow light, the harsh lines blurred, and his flush was more visible, a deep red at his nose, ears, shoulders, chest. The brunet wanted to devour him and keep him for himself. The sight was too pretty to be shared with anyone else.

“Okay.” Steve eventually broke the silence, taking a deep breath. A look of determination settled on his face, and he reached for the bottle that Bucky had dropped earlier. “Just give me a second.”

Bucky wanted to tell Steve that it was okay. There was no need to be worried or nervous, and he didn’t have to explain every move he made, but something deep inside of him found it too charming to say anything, so he settled for just watching Steve fumble and mutter to himself, the warm feeling of happiness flooding his veins.

Steve carefully slicked himself and lined up, placing a hand on one of Bucky’s bent knees. It was grounding, and Bucky was thankful for the gesture as Steve began to push his way in. The brunet couldn’t stop his eyes from fluttering shut, breath hitching. He was no virgin, but he had to admit that Steve was impressive - bigger than anyone else he’d been with, for sure - and it hurt. He tipped his head back, sucking air between his teeth, and his hands scattered, searching for something, anything, to grab ahold of.

Steve changed his grip, his hand sliding down to grab the back of Bucky’s thigh, forcing his leg further toward’s the brunet’s body, and leaned forward, lacing the finger’s of his free hand with one of the smaller man’s shaking hands. Bucky sighed at the feeling, resting their joined fingers on his stomach, and forced his eyes open. Steve already looked wrecked; a bead of sweat trailed down the side of his face, and his mouth was open, shaking breaths moving in and out between those damn lips. His eyes were heavy as he stared down at the brunet, nearly shut, cheeks flushed, and Bucky thought he looked the absolute picture of sex and debauchery.

Even with the pain, Bucky craved more. Steve was being careful, sinking slowly, and he was only halfway buried within him when Bucky grew impatient. He wrapped the leg that Steve wasn’t holding around the blond, using it to pull him in, urge him on. The blond growled at him and elbowed the leg away, never letting go of Bucky’s hand, and retaliated by slamming the rest of the way in. Bucky let out a shrill yelp, which trailed off into a long groan, and he wasn’t sure whether the pain or pleasure was more overwhelming as his eyes rolled back in his head.

Steve leaned down, forcing Bucky’s knee against his chest, a somewhat feral grin curling his lips. “This what you wanted, Buck?” He pulled back slightly, just to slam back in with twice the force. Bucky’s mouth dropped open, a soundless scream. “Don’t like it slow and gentle?”

“I-I do,” Bucky stuttered out. “But not tonight. I need to _feel it_.”

Steve moved their joined hands to rest alongside Bucky’s head, hips taking up a fluid but rough rhythm. He understood what Bucky needed, seemed to want it just as bad. Steve plastered himself against every inch of the brunet’s skin that he could, and the friction of his stomach sliding along Bucky’s own leaking cock was enough to make his vision wink out, splashes of color and light igniting behind his eyelids whenever he blinked.

“Christ,” Steve groaned through the thick haze, nails biting into Bucky’s thigh, “I’m not going to last very long. This is… it’s been too long… you’re, damnit, you’re too much.”

Bucky couldn’t respond, couldn’t tell him that he wasn’t going to last either, already too close to the edge to form words, string words into proper sentences. All he could do was nod, and hold on tighter. He was sure the blood flow to Steve’s fingers had to be cut off, clenched as tightly as they were between Bucky’s, and the brunet was dragging harsh nails down the blond’s back. The sounds escaping his lips rose in volume, soft, high-pitched exhales of breathy moans. He felt wanton and desperate, but he couldn’t care in the midst of their carnal exchange. If it was ever going to work with them, Bucky knew he couldn’t suppress how he felt. They were going to have to be open and true with one another, and bedroom activities couldn’t be excluded from that.

The only warning Bucky was able to give Steve before his orgasm hit him was a strangled cry. His neck strained as his back arched harshly, skin feeling oversensitive wherever it brushed against Steve’s, and he released between them. The force of it nearly knocked him out, vision blackened at the edges, and he struggled to catch his breath, lungs refusing to work. Steve followed shortly after him, groaning into Bucky’s exposed neck, riding it out with slow pumps of his hips, emptying himself inside of the brunet. The feeling was strange to Bucky, though not unpleasant. He’d never trusted anyone enough in the past to sleep with them sans a condom, but Steve wasn’t just anyone, and everything felt right.

It took them a few minutes to come down, and Steve collapsed atop the brunet, releasing his leg to slide his arm underneath Bucky, clinging to him desperately. That squeeze was what did Bucky in, and suddenly he found himself tearing up, chin trembling as he bit his sore lip to try and stop the oncoming flood of emotions. Steve didn’t miss a beat though, and looked up at the sound of Bucky sniffling, eyebrows drawn in confusion and worry.

“No, no, Buck,” he moved quickly, hurrying to cup the brunet’s face between his hands. His thumbs wiped at the tears, and he shook his head. “Don’t cry. Please, don’t be upset.”

“I’m not,” Bucky sobbed, crumbling completely, unable to hold back. “I’m not upset. I promise, Stevie. I’m… I’m just so…” he trailed off, drawing in hiccuping breaths.

“So what?” Steve asked softly. His eyes were blue again, the comforting and familiar color Bucky was accustomed to.

“Happy.” Bucky smiled, a self-deprecating twist of his mouth.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve laughed and kissed the brunet softly, a barely-there press of lips. “I’m so happy too.”

Nervous smiles were exchanged, and Bucky continued to cry, unable to suppress the overwhelming emotions. He didn’t know what to do, but he hoped Steve would think of something, even if it was to just turn off the light and go to sleep, and thankfully he delivered, giving Bucky that look he always got when he’d made a decision about something.

“Hey,” he said, “why don’t you go draw us a bath, and I’ll go whip up some cocoa. Would that help?”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile that burst to life at Steve’s words. This was Steve. He knew everything about Bucky, and he’d know how to make him feel better, that much was certain. He nodded in response, laughing and wiping at his own face, sniffling. “That sounds nice.”

“Perfect,” Steve smiled back and finally moved off of him. He slid out of Bucky in the process, causing the brunet to groan softly at both the loss and strange feeling of warm fluids drizzling out of him. He wanted to die of mortification when Steve paused to stare, and he snapped his legs together, cheeks burning.

“Sorry,” Steve stammered out, springing to action. He grabbed the first pair of pants he could find, which of course were Bucky’s, and pulled them on. They were painfully high watered on him, but he didn’t pay any attention, too flustered. “I’ll just go get that cocoa. Umm…” he trailed off, moving towards the door, and only gave Bucky a brief look before he left. “Yeah, um, I’ll be back.”

 

 

 

 

By the time Steve returned with hot cocoa, Bucky had drawn them a bath (which may or may not have included half a bottle of bubble bath,) and was already settled in the steaming hot water, feeling a thousand times more relaxed.

“Decided to start without me, I see,” Steve teased, also looking far more relaxed, clutching two white mugs.

Bucky only reached out for his beverage in response, making the blond chuckle.

Steve set his own drink at the edge of the tub and hurried to pull off those ridiculous pants. Bucky moved to give the blond room to sink into the hot, bubbly water, and he was thankful for the stupidly huge bathtub, as it was plenty big enough for the two of them to fit, facing one another.

For a few minutes they said nothing, simply looked at each other and sipped at their cocoa, cheeks pink. Bucky had tied his hair up, but a few strands had already escaped, clinging to the back of his damp neck. Steve’s was sticking up in every direction possible, and his lips looked bruised. Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Steve’s eyes lit up, boyish joy filling them with cerulean sparkles. “I love you too, Buck.”

“And I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting the last few days. I was terrified.”

Steve sighed and sank further into the water. He looked tired. “I eventually figured that out. I won’t lie; it was frustrating, and I wanted to be angry with you, but I knew there had to be a reason. We’ve been friends for almost our entire lives, and you’ve never acted like that with me before.”

“I know, Steve. Really, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Steve spoke firmly and ran a hand up one of Bucky’s calves, a reassuring touch. “I know. It’s okay, really. We all make mistakes, and there’s no point in dwelling on it. Everything is okay now, and we should move forward. It’s… you know,” he paused, smiling, “I’m excited, Buck, excited to move forward… excited for the future. More so than I ever have been, I think.”

“What’s our future look like, Stevie?” Bucky asked, voice still whisper-soft.

Steve took a moment to respond, turning his response carefully over and over in his head. “I’m no fortune teller, Buck. I couldn’t know what the future has planned for us, even if I wanted to, but one thing is certain.”

“And what’s that?”

“We’ll share it. No matter what.”

Bucky’s hand sought out Steve’s under the water, squeezing tight. “What do you want, Steve? For us?”

The blond abandoned his near-empty mug at the edge of the bath and scooted forward. Bucky made room for him, wrapping his legs around Steve’s hips as he settled between them. The two stared at each other, sharing the air between them, faces so close that their noses brushed.

“I want you to be my best guy, Buck. My partner, boyfriend, whatever the hell you want to call it. I want you to be mine.”

Bucky bit his lip. It was sore and battered, and he flinched at the sting. He tipped his head, pressing his forehead against Steve’s for a quiet moment, before whispering, “I want that too. More than anything.”

Steve laughed brightly and pulled him into a deep kiss, alleviating the sting, replacing it with delicate, soft warmth. Their lips moved together for what felt like hours, teeth clicking together in imperfect perfection, tongues pressing together heavily.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” Steve breathed, when they broke apart.

Bucky gave a short, surprised laugh, eyebrows lifted high. “Punk.”

 

***

 

The next four days flew by, and before they knew it, the boys were back in New York, sitting in quiet companionship in the backseat of a cab that was taking them home. Neither of Bucky’s parents had seemed to notice a change in the boys over those last few days, but Becca had spent them shooting traumatized looks at the pair. Bucky had bugged her constantly, wanting to know what the hell her problem was, but she hadn’t given in until the final day, right before they'd left for the airport.

“I heard you guys, you know,” she whispered, voice filled with horror. “I won’t ever be able to look at you the same way, Bucky.”

Bucky had rolled his eyes. “Oh, whatever, Becca. You probably got off on it, since you have a huge crush on Steve.”

“Used to!” she’d assured him, giving a violent shake of her head. “He’s all yours brother. Do you really think I can still be into him after hearing him take you apart like that? Jesus fucking christ, Bucky. Yuck!”

Bucky had only laughed and pulled his sister into a hug, telling her to take care of mom and dad. He’d also promised to invite her out to stay with them for a week or two in the summer, and as much as his sister drove him crazy, he’d meant it, and he was looking forward to it.

As they pulled up to their apartment building and Steve paid the cab driver, Bucky let out a long breath, nerves suddenly getting the best of him.

“It’s going to be fine, Bucky,” Steve reassured him for the millionth time as they stood on the sidewalk, bags clutched in their hands, staring up at the brick building. “I think they all expect it.”

Bucky nodded and reluctantly followed the blond into the building and up the stairs to their apartment. They’d talked about what they were going to do, wanting to break their change of relationship quickly to their friends, to get it over with. Bucky still thought their plan was solid. They were going to hold hands, that was all. It was easy, really, and still Bucky felt like he might puke.

Neither of them had brought their keys with them. Bucky had a knack for losing them, and they hadn’t wanted to risk it. As they stopped at their apartment door, Steve gave Bucky a quick glance, a nod, and grabbed his right hand tightly before knocking on the door. It was answered quickly, unsurprisingly by Natasha. Bucky thought she looked different, but he knew she didn’t. He’d changed. Everything felt strangely foreign.

The redhead barely spared their hands a glance before speaking. “It’s about god damn time,” she smirked, moving aside to let them come inside.

“About time what?” came Sam’s voice, from his usual spot on the couch. He turned to look back at the group, eyebrows raised in question.

Clint was quicker on the uptake, looking at them from where he sat next to Sam. He pumped a fist in the air, glee lighting his face. “Yes! I knew it! Nat, you totally owe me ten bucks.”

“Is this a bet we’re hearing about?” Steve laughed and dropped his bag as Natasha shut the door behind them.

“Nat and I both figured you two would get together while you were gone, but she thought you’d try to keep it on the down low for a while,” Clint grinned, high-fiving an excited Sam, who’d just realized what the hell they were talking about, “but I knew better. You two are shit at keeping anything secret.”

“Ignore him,” Nat said, moving around them to return to the living room, sinking gracefully into her favorite armchair. “We’re all happy for you boys. Welcome home.”

Before he knew what was happening, Bucky was being pulled into Steve’s arms, dropping his luggage in the process, and then they were kissing to the anthem of their friends cheers. They didn’t last long before they had to pull apart, bursting into happy laughter, and Bucky had the feeling that his cheeks were going to be smile-sore for the next few weeks, but he supposed there were worse problems to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH, and please, if you have a moment, leave some feedback. It's very much appreciated. :) I loved writing this, and I'd absolutely like to write some more stories about these guys. They're a lot of fun, and I hope I did them some justice. Thank you all again for reading. Each and every one of you are lovely. 
> 
> XXX

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on Tumblr and Instagram! :)  
> Tumblr: @captain-winterdaddy  
> Instagram: @meghan.anne_


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